All Who Wander Are Not Lost
by Robinhood4ever
Summary: A Ranger. A flash of fire. A shield strong as Mithril. A warrior. A wanderer. Part-time Seer. Enemy of the Witch King. Pheonix. Protector of the weak. Those were things people said about her, but who was she really?
1. Prologue

It was said that as she lay within her cradle, just hours old, that her mother was given a vision. And a strange one it was, of a shield, held up and protecting the world from a great darkness to come, and so she gave her the name of Thennil, Shielder, for she would be a shield for those who were weak.

Her father only saw her as his morning star, the first thing that he saw in the morning light, and gave her the name of Orelil. She was a brightly shining star where there was none, a bringer of light and in a sense, hope.

Little did they forsee the path that their small child would have to tread, and the challenges that she would face there.


	2. Chapter 1

**So, just a note this is not probably going to be updated consistently. I have a lot going on in my life, but this idea popped up in my head and I just couldn't let it rest. It will probably be choppy, cheesy, and really awfully written at times and I apologize. I am trying to bring back my muse which college seems to have killed for me. Joy.**

 **On the brighter side I hope that this story interests you at least somewhat...**

"Ada…?"

…

"Ada?"

"Ada!" The small voice demanded from the floor.

Whirling around, silken robes flailing out like butterfly wings, Elrond stared down at his small copper-headed daughter. She stood there in her short dress, tresses mussed, with her face screwed up in a most concerning bright eyes twinkled knowingly as she continued to see him trying to cease fidgeting. She was very perceptive for one so young, just out of toddlerhood. He sighed and halted his rapid pacing in favor of answering her.

"Yes, sellig?" He asked rubbing his temple in a circular motion hoping to relieve the pressure.

"Where is Naneth? Why haven't I seen her today? She wasn't at the table to break our fast this morn?" She pelted him with questions one after the other like a hammer.

"Naneth-Naneth is not-Well to be frank, she is bringing you another sibling."

Her small ocean blue eyes sparkled, "A sister!?"

"Perhaps, though I think it is more likely to be a little brother," He smiled and chuckled softly as she pouted, crossing her small arms and popping her small hip stubbornly.

"But I wanted a sister, I wished for one upon a shooting star."

"The stars cannot always grant you what you wish for, little one," He soothed as he brushed his fingers through her mussed hair trying to tame it's rebellious waves into submission."They are place there for our enjoyment by the Valar, they are incredibly special to us.

She nodded her small head,"Naneth always said that our people were named for the stars, and that I was too."

"Yes, little one, you were, our little morning star, reminding us that this world is not as dark as it seems," he replied, _though there is much darkness in it._

"Couldn't Naneth bring me a little sister so that she can be another star in the sky?," she questioned, turning to pick up a stuffed horse from among her many toys.

"Perhaps next time, but we cannot know if the Valar will bless your Naneth and I with more children, we must be happy with whatever they give us," he encouraged, "A brother can not be that bad, surly?"

"Lairien says her brother is annoying, that he cries loudly at night and that he smells, it sounds gross," she stated lifting her head proudly as if she knew everything about brothers.

"Yes, but that is only for a time, they will not always be like that."

"Well, if I can't have a sister a brother is better than nothing," she huffed in annoyance, pulling at a strand of her hair.

He smiled, better than nothing indeed.

The moon was high in the sky, is light filtering down through the clouds like a mist to shine on the cool marble floor of her bedroom. He soft breathing could be heard over the noise of the night creatures as a figure crept closer to her bed, clothed in a dark robe, making almost no sound at all. Reaching out it's had it gently shook her small shoulder. She shifted beneath the warm coverlet and a tiny hand rose to rub the sleep from her tired eyes. She was not used to be woken at such a late hour of the night and she struggled to draw herself from the pleasant dream that she had been experiencing.

"What is it?" She asked sleepily, blinking in the starlight.

"It is I little one," her father's voice spoke in the darkness.

"Ada?" she yawned.

"There is some people that Naneth would like you to meet, but you have to be awake," His gentle voice whispered into her ear as he plucked her from beneath her warm covers. She snuggled into his arms and she clung to his neck, rubbing once again at her droopy eyes.

"Who?"

"You shall see."

Exiting the room through the ornate carved door, his soft steps traveled down the hallway, past open windows, tapestries, and small nooks looking out over the waterfalls. His path led up to another ornate door, this one with trees and butterflies carved into it's surface, twisting and turning elegantly. Pushing it open, he entered, closing it softly behind him as he turned to walk further into the room. She stirred in his arms, blinking in the pale light of one of the lamps that hung from the high ceiling above them, and gazed at the scene before her.

Upon the plush mattress of her parents lavish bed lay her mother. She was propped up by numerous pillows of crystal white, and her hands lay clasped over her breast serenely. Her face was peaceful, and her eyes such a great joy that her daughter could not comprehend it's meaning at the late hour. The hall clock began to chime. Naneth smiled and raising her lily white hand to becon them closer before bringing a single finger to her pink lips to signify silence. Slipping down from her father's arms and grasping his hand tightly, she tip-toed closer to the bed before crawling up next to her mother. Snuggling close, she nuzzled her nose into her mother's pale neck and breathed deep of her natural perfume, like lavender and rain, before letting out her breath with a small contented sigh.

"Ada said that you were not well; that you were bringing me a little brother?" she asked in a small voice.

Her mother nodded.

"Was it hard?"

"A little, my love, but it was worth it, Celebrian's musical voice soothed, brushing her finger through her daughter's hair lovingly, they are waiting to see you."

Twisting in her mother's arms, Thennil looked over to the carved wooden cradle that stood next to the bed. It was made from cherry wood, carved into curls of wood the reminded her of the painting of the sea that she had seen in one of the shops. One single branch curved up and above it to create a place to hang a mobile if one had the inclination. Scooting over to the edge of the bed she leaned over the edge and peered down at the two small faces that greeted her. She gasped, and reached out a hesitant finger to trace the dark line of hair that grew on each of their sleeping heads, barily breathing. Eyes wide in wonder she giggled softly when they made snuffling noises; small eyes opened to gaze up at her.

"They are beautiful," she whispered.

"Aye, her Ada chuckled, but I don't know if they will always wished to be called beautiful as they grow older."

"But they are; what have you called them?" She wondered, not really caring what the answer was as she looked down at them.

"This is Elladan, her Ada said picking the boy closest to him up and holding him so that she could see, he has darker eyes and lighter hair, Elrohir has lighter grey eyes."

She smiled hopefully and bounced on the edge of the bed, "Can I play with them now?"

"Nay my love, her father said rocking the infant gently, they are young yet and you would trample them in your haste to teach them all about your toys."

She pouted, and looked up at him pleading.

"Give them a few years and then they will be able to play with you, then you may teach them all you like!"

She turned to the elflings and smiled mischieviously, "You must eat lots of greens so that you grow quickly, brothers, then I shall teach you everything, the best places to hide when we play hide and seek, how to be Lady of the rock, she paused in thought, a finger on her small chin, though you will be Lords, not ladies seeing as you are boys."

"Yes, but it would be best if you refrain from teaching them how to flinch sweets from the kitchens," her father stated, pinching her cheek.

"It was only one pastry!" She gasped, jaw hanging open. He raised his eyebrow at her, "or two… maybe three?"

He chuckled, "You have a large sweet tooth, little one."

She grinned and stated proudly, "Just like Naneth!"

Their laughter rang softly through the halls of the house.

"Just like Naneth."


	3. Chapter 2

**15 Years Later**

"Elladan, keep your head down or cook will see you!" She hissed as she crouched behind a large barrel with her two young brother beside her.

"But the tart smells so good, Thennil," said brother whined while squirming where he crouched behind a barrel of his own.

"Yes, but if you want that tart we have to be quiet,Handë will hear you, be patient!" She threatened.

"But I want it now, can't you just distract her?"

She rolled her eyes, would her brother never learn the art of flinching? "You can never use the same idea more than once, she'll catch on to it. Trust me, four more minutes and Oron will come through that door and she will be so distracted that she won't even know that the tart's gone."

"I still don't know if this is the best idea, Thannil," Elorhir stated as he rocked back on his heels, peering through the cracks between the barrels.

"Do you have a better one?" She raised an eyebrow high, looking quite like her father for a moment.

"Not at them moment, but I could have!" He stated with a huff.

"Well-

"Look, here comes Oron!" Elladan whispered peaking over the barrel swiftly, ready to jump out and snatch the tart from the table nearest them.

Laying a hand on his shoulder she signaled him to wait, listening to Hande ask Oron how his day was and how long he thought the fair weather would last before it decided to rain. She smiled as she saw the two elves start chatting away as Hande continued to knead the bread dough with the heel of her hands. The smell of the dough was lovely, but the thought of the sweet tart that was only feet away from the trio was even better. As she twisted her feet to better support her weight she nodded to Elladan, smirking as he crept quietly out from behind his barrel and across the kitchen floor. She kept glancing back and forth between her brother and the elves speaking across the kitchen. He had crept forward on his hands and knees, worming his way between stools, bags of apples, and a box filled with flour ending up right beneath the table where the tart lay.

"Now, Elrohir," She whispered, giving him a light push.

The boy leaped up and charged through the kitchen with a scream,"Hande, save me, Save ME!"

The elleth, gave a start and twisted to look at the youth that came hurdling towards her.

"What is the matter, Elrohir? What has befallen you?" She asked holding him at arms length looking him up and down for injury.

"Thennil said that she was going to throw me in the fountain for ruining her favorite doll, but I didn't do it!" He pleaded.

She hoped that the cook would take the bait, she didn't play with her dolls as much as she used to, but there was a possibility that the elleth wouldn't know that. She held her breath as Hande looked into her brother's eyes, before pulling him close. She sighed with relief, it looked like it was working.

"You can stay here, she shouldn't come to bother you if she doesn't know where you are, right?"

 _Curses!_ That was not what she wanted at all, it looked like she would have to be more than just the planner this time. Creeping towards the door she hurried up the flight of stair, making no noise at all in her long dress and bare feet. Jumping up and down she got her blood pumping, shaking her head to mess her hair a little to look like she had bee running around looking for Elrohir. Then, taking a deep breath she shouted her brother's name.

"Elrohir, I know you're here somewhere!"

Running down the stairs in a flurry of skirts she searched the room for her brother, faking anger when she saw him, he paled at the sight of her and jumped behind Oron. She stalked towards him, eyes narrowed in mock anger.

"Why? she asked, Why did you do that to my doll?"

She forced a tear from her eye, seeing him smirk from behind the ellon.

"I didn't do it, Thennil!" He defended, inching towards the door to the walk behind him.

"Really? Elladan wasn't anywhere near my room, but I saw you when I got done with breakfast this morning. Why?" She fumed, while trying not to laugh at the accusing looks that Hande and Oron were now giving Elrohir, not even noticing Elladan sneaking out of the kitchen with the tart.

"I didn't do it, I swear it!" He said warily, then darted out the door as Elladan disappeared up the stairs.

"Come back here!" She cried running after him with a growl. She followed him down the walk and past a few elves who jumped to avoid being run into. She laughed loudly as she skipped down the curved stairway and through a ivy encrusted gateway into the garden. Running through the bushes she pushed aside the willow branches to enter their secret hide out.

"Well met!" Elrohir laughed from his spot on the soft grass with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Aye, we have rescued the tart from the evil kitchens, it shall never be tortured again!" Elladan said with a magnificent bow.

"Yes, now lets eat before someone comes looking for us, no evidence can be left behind!"

They all giggled before collapsing to the grass and digging into the delicious treat.

 **10 Years Later**

"Lift your blade higher, Elladan, you will never be able to block properly if you carry it so low to the ground!"

"I'm trying Lord Glorfindel!" the exasperated youth ground out.

"Elrohir, watch your feet, you'll never progress anywhere if you don't watch your foot work, boy!"

"Working on it!" the other dark hair youth groaned, moving his feet to the correct position.

Sitting in the shade of one of the walls of the training grounds, Thennil watched her brothers with bated breath, memorizing their moves in her mind. Her mending was forgotten in her lap, as she gripped her skirts in anticipation for the next move. Her eyes trailed over the chiseled and muscular bodies of the others on the training field, watching them move smoothly like water to avoid their opponents. It was like they were dancing, not fighting. It was so elegant, so beautiful. She winced as her brother's swords clanged together, ringing across the field like a bell of warning. They were years young than her and they had already started training to become warriors of Imladris one day; they would be mighty warriors one day.

Slowly the other warriors began to trickle from the field, hanging they weapons up in the armory and jesting with one another. Her brothers trained on under the skilled eyes of Glorfindel, who had killed one of the Balrog long ago. Sweat gleamed on their foreheads as they sparred, trying to best one another with their teacher calling out suggestions. Finally, their teacher called for a draw, they were to evenly matched to beat each other. She could vaguely hear what he said, giving them pointers and explaining things to each of them, then pushing them towards the armory he left the field shaking his head.

She waited for her brothers to exit the armory and leave the field before tossing her mending on her chair and creeping along the lawn to where someone had forgotten their sword. She had not seen who had left it their, but she reasoned that she could put it away since she had noticed it. As she grew nearer she realized that it was rather simple in it's appearance, leather encased the handle from the hilt to the pommel with impressions of leaves imprinted into it, and the blade was straight, not curved like many of her people's weapons. Moving towards the handle she snatched her hand back, glancing around fearfully. Seeing no one she grasps the handle and lifts it into the position that Glorfindel had said was third position. Slowly, and as smoothly as possible she moved through the other positions that he had shown her brothers in their many hours of training. Closing her eyes she copied Glorfindel's movements as best as she could, remembering to keep her feet at a right angle like he had taught her brothers at first.

She continued to move through the many steps that she had seen until she heard someone start to clap. Spinning around, sword pointed at the ground she gasped at the elf who stood before her and blushed rosily in shame.

"I-I- please don't tell my father, I have just always wondered what it would be like, it looks so beautiful and I have always wanted to try, Naneth with be horrified! It shall never happen again I promise, just don't tell-

He laughed, shaking his head,"I am not here to condemn you, my Lady, I had just forgotten to check to see if anyone forgot to take care of their weapons."

"Yes, I-

"You are quite good for just copying what I have taught your brothers and not having someone to teach you."

"I am so clum-what?" she stuttered to a stop, looking up into his mirth filled eyes.

"I am good?"

"You could use improvement with a few of the techniques, but with help and practice, you would be a formidable warrior, if you let me teach you."

"Ada would never allow it-You would teach me! Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer, teach me?" she gasped, "but I am an elleth? And though I feel that even we ladies should be able to defend ourselves, my Ada does not see it in the same light that I do."

"So you would learn if given the chance?"

"With all my heart! I want to be able to protect what is my own, my people, and I cannot do that with a sewing needle!" She stated, shaking her mane of hair violently, eyes glinting with frustration.

He smiled, she was much like her father, determined to protect what was her own, her family, from any harm that could befall them. She had the determination and the reflexes for it; plus he always liked to get a rise out of her father when he could. Yes, this would be fun indeed.

"We will keep your training a secret for now, but when the time comes leave your father to me, he will listen to reason," he stated, "Now hold that sword up, it's deplorable the way you let it hang at your side, and those feet! Shoulders back...

 **Just a note, Thennil was around ten at the time that her brothers were born. I'm going with the thought that elves don't reach their maturity until they are around fifty-seventy. So assume that she is still a child when she is snagging sweets and a mid-teen age in human years at the training field. So yeah, post a review, and enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 3

The sound of swords clanging interrupted the peaceful afternoon, bringing many elves to a halt in their afternoon activities and duties. It was accompanied by laughter and grunts, making the listeners relax as they realized that it was not something to worry about. Slowly people began to move, carrying on with small chuckles or smirks on their faces as they realized what, or rather who might be in the training fields that afternoon. The brother's were often known to have laughter and teasing accompany their sparring matches.

"I told you that I was getting better, Elrohir, you just didn't believe me!" A voice chortled in victory, blocking the onslaught of blows that their opponent was raining upon them with ease.

"Getting better? This is better? I thought you were still learning the positions and how to lung, neth!" Elrohir replied, lunging forward in a swift fluid like movement.

"Nay, I passed that part of my training years ago, Elrohir, you just didn't know because I was keeping it a secret," she laughed, taking her turn to retaliate for her brother's pounding with quick jabs and rough thwacks that forced him to give up ground.

He gritted his teeth and raising his sword to fend off her flashing sword, he rolled his eyes. She had definitely kept it a good secret, he had no idea how long that she had been practicing for. He movements were polished; she had the poise of someone who practiced for long hours devotedly. She seemed to know how to look at an opponent and be able to tell their next move even before they themselves knew, which irritated him to no end. Growling as her blade whistled close to his ear, he side-stepped her last swing and ducked underneath her blade, avoiding having his head taken off by a split second.

"How long have you been practicing and with who? Achasdir has been busy with Elladan, myself and others, Glorfindel has been in Imladris on and off for the last year and a half that I'm sure that it can't have been him, so who?" He panted as she clashed blades with him.

"Oh, a little over, lets see, one," she retreated,"two, maybe three," her sword dove forward to his, and with a quick twist and a strong yank upwards his own was thrown spinning into the air to land on the cropped grass feet away.

Jaw hanging, he stared at her in awe and puzzlement,"Try ten and a little, by Glorfindel no less," she paused and watched as miraculously his jaw dropped lower in shock,"You might want to shut your mouth little brother, you are going to catch flies with it."

"What? He stopped training Elladan and I years ago, said that he had something of importance or some such thing to attend to and that he wouldn't be able to continue as our teacher," He mumbled out loud, walking over to his fallen weapon.

She raised an eyebrow and waited.

Spinning around, eyes wide in accusation he shouted,"That was you! Your were the important thing that pulled him away from the training field?"

She blushed in shame, and pride. Having known that her brothers had lamented for weeks, wondering why their teacher had decided to leave them to another one of the other instructors, they had felt abandoned. She had had to put up with them being sour for the first week and no one had been able to get them out of their gloomy mood, not even their mother. He father had ended up giving them more lessons to complete because they were getting on everyone's nerves with their complaining. She had felt awful about keeping her secret, but Glorfindel had assured her that it was fine; her brother's needed to learn from someone else to give them a variety in their training, a different perspective to use.

"I was..." softly.

"But he's been gone, who have you been practicing with?" He pestered.

"Umm...with Magoldor?"

"The Smith?"

"There's nothing wrong with him being a smith, he was once held a very high position in Oropher's army before the King fell during the War of the Last Alliance," she rose to her friends defense.

"I meant nothing by it, her brother raised his hands in defeat, I was simply wondering who it was."

"Forgive me, Elrohir, I have come quite defensive in this area, Ada does not know, though I think that he must suspect that I am doing something, and I have not had the opportunity to show everyone" she whispered as they left the training field.

"I'd be surprised if Ada didn't know, he's like that," he gave her a knowing look.

"He's been gone with Naneth on and off to visit Greenwood and Lothlorien and the other scattered settlements of our people in the mountains, he hasn't exactly been home to see anything."

"And where would he see you? I have never seen you in the training field until today, have you been practicing in the smith shop?"

She sighed, this brother was always so very perceptive and could figure something out faster than Elladan when it came to a mystery,"Aye, I have been."

"So why today? Why did you decide to spar with me out in the open where Ada could definitely see you, because he is home."

"He is going to have to find out sometime, and I thought now would be the best, Glorfindel is here, and if Ada insists that he wants to see how much I know and that I can protect myself, then I have at least one stanch protector, not including Magoldor."

"I wish you luck, once Ada finds out, you're as good as dead..."

"Thanks," she muttered, placing her sword on a bench and unwrapping the leather strips from around her hands and rolling them up. She continued with the other, rolling it up in the same manner before moving to polish her blade and replace it within it's sheath. Stretching her arms towards the ceiling of the room she heard a few of her vertebrae pop, and sighed in satisfaction before going into a stretch to help her tight muscles. She rolled her shoulders and leaned forward as she cracked the knuckles of her hands.

Slipping out of the training ground could be quite a task, especially wearing one of her brother's tunics and trousers. Everyone had been scheduled for training that afternoon; she and Elrohir had cut their bout close, meaning that she could bump into any one of his fellow warriors in her attempt to disappear. Today everyone seemed to be coming in all at once, which left her little choice but to wait behind one of the many large pieces of equipment that stood in the corner closest to the exit. Taking her chances after a group of three youngsters came trampling through the arch she bolted through the opening and down the path to the right, away from the bustle of the city, and into the gardens. Trotting down the sunlit paths, she slowed in her pace to enjoy the twinkling rays. Anyone who might catch a glimpse of her would have thought that she was the source of light, as the light looked to be coming from her own skin as the sun bounced off her, making her glow.

Turning down a less worn path, she made her way beneath her own room. Heading towards the tree that stood near her bedroom window she leapt up and grabbed a low limb to swing herself up into the boughs. Jumping from branch to branch she made her way up to the level of her room and, glancing to the ground and the surrounding area and listening for any movement from within her room, she flipped through the wide open window, landing in a crouch like a cat upon the floor.

"I was wondering when I would see where all that training was being put to use," a low voice spoke, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end, and a chill to creep up her spine in apprehension.

Turning slowly, she let her eyes travel up from the rug to a pair of booted feet, then a long robe, a narrow but muscular chest, then to a pair of grey eyes. She squirmed under their gaze, unsure of how to approach the situation without blowing it all together.

"Ada, I-

He raised his hand to silence her,"I has been made apparent over the last few years that my daughter was not telling me how she spent most of her time during the day, even your mother didn't know where you would disappear to for hours on end. At first I thought it was just a passing fancy, I hoped it was just a passing fancy, but it seems that you are determined to master this art, and I couldn't be more shocked, an Elleth does not simply decide to learn how to use a weapon and not put that knowledge to use."

"I planned on telling you, and I know that I should have, but I was afraid. You have always said that an elleth's place is in doing things with her hands like weaving, sewing, teaching and the like, but I have never been passionate about those things. I can't do anything to protect my family if something were to happen, I would be defenseless. I don't want to be a burden that way." She spoke in rapid succession, barely taking a chance to catch her breath.

"I want to be out there defending our people, and not just our own, but those who can not defend and take care of themselves when they are attacked. I was given a talent, why should I let it go to waste in the training field when I could use it out in the world. I will not stand by while the innocent are slaughtered without mercy-he went to interrupt her-do not deny it, I have heard the reports with my own ears! So many lives have been lost because no one was there to help them!" she railed in righteous passion.

As she paused to catch her breath, her father spoke.

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear."

"I know that you probably don't want me to con-What?"

"I think that we should begin to train you in earnest, I have heard that Glorfindel and Magoldor have been training you, and I want them to continue. But being a warrior isn't all about knowing how to fight and when to kill, it is also about knowing when to spare a life and how to heal. They go hand in hand together," he paused as she held her breath, filled with hope, "And, if you wish to pursue this path I expect you to be diligent in you training with me in the healing ward."

"Yes! I'll be the best student that you've ever had. Thank you! Thank you!" She choked out, flinging her arms around her father's neck.

"I believe you will."

 **Arianna Le Fay-Thank you so much for the review; you will have to wait and see who she ends up with I'm still figuring that out myself. I like to write the character and let her develop a little before making that decision.**

 **Certh-Thanks for the helpful review, I did change some of the things that you mentioned. Hopefully it will sound smoother now than what I had down before.**

 **So this is all going to be somewhat of a rough draft for this story as I hope to go back and review then update the chapters after I have all the ground work done. Please be patient with me if there are spelling mistakes and the like, because I stink when it comes to spelling and grammar. I'm going to try to get another chapter out before Sunday this week because I am going on vacation and I won't have access to reliable wifi.**

 **See ya!**

 **Robin**


	5. Chapter 4

**T. A. 241, Fall**

"So, what's our exit strategy exactly?"

"Our what?"

"Oh Valar, we're all going to die! You don't have a plan?"

One might wonder if they were in the midst of a prank and were about to get caught, but infact the trio was surrounded by a pack of orcs. A rather large, immensely smelly, pack of vicious orcs who were intent on killing the three elves. Oh, and they were outnumbered. Ducking and weaving beneath the black blades of the wretched things the trio argued betwixt one another with the false cheer of sibling banter in the middle of a nasty skirmish. They had been in quite a few together now, having been placed on in different patrols around their borders and given missions over the many years. Thennil swung her sword and grimaced as she severed the twisted head from an orcs shoulders, it's body falling to the ground with a sickening thud.

"How do we get into these situations? It's been smooth since we left Lorien, we're not even a two day's march from Imadlris!" Elladan grumbled.

"One hundred some years of sibling-hood and I still don't know, so don't ask!" She yelled to him, disarming another orc and ducking the swing of it's companion in one liquid-like move.

"I second that opinion, we just attract trouble, like bees to flowers!" Elrohir jumped in to the conversation as he slashed his way through to join his two siblings.

Twirling, ducking and weaving the trio was like a well oiled killing machine, they each could read the others and acted accordingly, striking and blocking in an elusive blur of black and copper. They were similar to a small army, with the eldest giving the commands and the twins putting them into action and protecting her back when she stepped outside of their small circle.

"I was hoping that this journey would be quick, Naneth's time is close and I didn't want to be half way across Arda on an errand for Thranduil when it happened."

"I agree, so, lets get a move on, shall we?" Elladan stated, running the last of the orcs through with his sword, pushing it to the ground while wiping his blade on a spot of clean grass.

"Agreed, lets get out of here before some other type of trouble finds us!"

 **Edge of Imadlris, Two Days Later**

"So, what do you think that it will be?"

"I don't know, but I don't think that I can stand having another brother, I already have two as it is," Thennil teased from her seat atop her dappled grey mount, "Don't you think, Talagor?"

The stallion snorted and shook his head, snapping his long mane against his neck in agreement.

"What, are we not charming enough?" Elladan teased.

"No, you just lack the feminine attributes among other things less important," she teased back.

Her brothers made faces, pretending to vomit,"Thank the Valar for that, you females are so strange, blek!"

"Strange? Oh I never saw it like that, I think the word you are looking for runs along the lines of smarter..."

"Whatever, I for one want a brother, someone to teach archery to, and fencing!" Elrohir stated from behind them on his own steed.

"You have me for that, big brother!" Elladan chortled, dropping back to punch his brother playfully.

"Aye," Elrohir rolled is eyes heavenward,"And what a trial you are."

The trio burst into laughter, moving down the steed path into the valley, friendly banter continuing as they went. Their horses, sensing that a warm stable and food was not far away, strained at the reins, chuffing at their riders. Glancing at the other's, Elladan smirked, kicking his black steed, Belroch, and shooting down the path. Shouts of surprise and accusation followed his departure, but the sound of pounding hooves followed soon after, getting louder and louder behind him. Soon, a flash of his brother's bay passed him, sprinting towards the finish line like a shooting star. Urging his horse on, Elladan glanced back to look for his sister, she was gone!

"Thennil!" He cried in alarm. Could she have fallen from the path? Even the most sure-footed horse could loose their footing and slip over the side, though it rarely happened, if ever. Slowing his ride down to a slow trot he scanned the raven for any sign of her among the trees."Thennil!"

A snicker from his right caught him off guard as a flash of grey and copper shot past him, galloping at full speed towards the courtyard ahead. His sister streaked forward on her mount, laughter bubbling out of her like a brook. Growling, he nudged Belroch into a gallop in effort to reach his sister before she entered the yard. Leaning low over his rides neck he whispered encouraging words into the horses ear, watching as they caught up to his sister.

Bursting through the gates, she pulled her steed to a stop, watching as her younger brother came careening in a few seconds after in amusement. He was so gullible sometimes, still young. Swinging her leg over the head of Talagor, she hopped gracefully to the ground before being caught in her father's arms. Drawing him close she relished his warmth and security, it had been a long three month trip from the Greenwood to Lothlorien.

Withdrawing, she looked up into his eyes and smiled,"Ada, how are you? Has the-

"I am fine. But your mother would like to see all of you."

"Is she not well!"Elladan and Elrohir gasped worriedly in the same breath.

"Nay, she just misses her children," their father reassured them,"You can have the time to clean yourselves up, then meet me outside our bedroom. I don't know if she sleeps or not. After that you may tell me of your trip and what transpired."

The trio nodded and hurried into the house eager to shed their smelly clothes and wash the stains of travel from their bodies.

Upon reaching her own room, Thennil tossed her cloak onto a chair in the corner and began to strip down. She threw all her dirty things in a pile as she entered the bathing room, and throwing all decorum to the wind ran and jumped into the large spring fed pool that greeted her.

Splashing around in the hot water she lay there floating while tracing the vine patterns on the ceiling with her eyes. She breathed in the moist sticky air, relaxing like she had not been able to do in months. Even among her grandmother's kin she had not been able to settle down, always thinking of her home, her parents, her friends, sparring with Glorfindel and the like. Kicking over to the side of the pool she sorted through her many hair oils and soaps, choosing a rose and lavender concoction to use. Pouring it into her hand she scrubbed her hair thoroughly, leaving no piece unturned.

After having carefully washed herself of the grime of the road, she climbed from the pool. Snatching a towel from the stack on the table, she wrapped the soft cloth around her body and crept silently into her room. Standing before her wardrobe she wondered what to wear. In the front of her closet hung many tunics, pairs of trousers, leather jerkins, and long tunics of her own creation. Pushed to the back were dresses of every color, red, navy, gold, forest green, silver, and many more; all had the long draping sleeves and elegant yet bothersome a-line skirts that drug along the ground. Nudging aside the other clothes she snatched one of the dresses from the hanger and hastily donned the magnificent creation of teal along with all the necessary undergarments.

Tugging at the collar of the dress she huffed,"This is why I wear tunics, they are so much more convenient and don't cause a hassle to put on!"

Still tugging and pulling at the dress, she exited her room and hurried along to hallway to join her brother's at their parents door.

Seeing her mother laying propped up on pillows, but with a radiant smile on her face reminded Thennil of another birth that had happened years before. She smiled softly, walking noiselessly up to the bed and taking her mother's hand in hers. Her mother exchanged a knowing look with her before turning to her two eager sons with a bright smile. They chatted for many long minutes while she waited for the twins to finally realize that something was different with their mother. It was Elrohir who spoke first after letting his brother run his mouth, having been able to sit back and observe the scene with silent silent grey eyes.

"Naneth, where's the baby?"

All the heads in the room snapped to look at his face then swung back to search their mother's for an answer. Elladan was looking up and down her body for the large bump that had taken up what had been her waist. It was gone. Puzzled beyond belief he raised one eyebrow and began to search the room. His eyes came to rest on an ornate cradle that sat near the window.

Both of the boys slowly rose from their spots and inched closer to the cradle, holding their breaths. Tentatively the peered down at the small being that lay nestled among the silk covers, it's dark head of hair a stark contrast to the white frothy material that surrounded it. As if sensing someone watching them, the small child opened to reveal their silvery grey eyes, so much like their older siblings. The small mouth puckered then opened to release a small musical yawn.

"She's beautiful," the boys whispered, as if by speaking any louder that they would startle the small creature before them. They definitely wouldn't be teaching her much about fencing, but they were going to be practicing more to protect her from the world.

"Your sister said the same thing when you were born."

The boys grimaced, pulling faces and glaring at their elder sister.

"It was different then, don't ask me why, I was only ten!"

"So?"

She rolled her eyes, typical.

Taking a step forward she gazed down at her little sister; she was a very beautiful child. Gently she stroked the dark curls that were already starting to form on her forehead, then traced the curve of her cheek with a single finger. Looking up she save a glance pass between her parents, as if they knew something that she did not.

"What's her name?" Elladan whispered, touching the downy hair that curled beneath his fingers.

"Arwen Undomiel."

"Noble Evenstar," Thennil murmured with pride.

"Now I have both my morning star and my evening star, and I doubt that there will be anyone fairer than the two of you," Elrond whispered as he drew his daughter to his side.

Not many days later Thennil sat beneath the great old willow tree that her brothers and herself had dubbed the Hiding Tree. The breeze whispered through the boughs, making them sway merrily. Laying beside her wrapped in snowy white blankets was her small sister. She watched the infants face as it switched between a sleepy smile and a serene blank look. Little Arwen seldomly cried, she was always so content, so quiet. When she did fuss, it was never quiet. She constantly garnered attention from the many elleth that lived in and around the city with her pale features and deep black almost blue like hair. Thennil had warned her father that if he did not sharpen his sword then she would when the time came for the ellon of the valley came acourting in the future. He had laughed and asked her why he should not be doing so with her, she had replied with a short comment that no sane or wise ellon would have a warrior to wife and left it at that.

Her sister stirred abruptly, squirming in her sleep before wailing.

"Shhh, ithildin, shhh, nothing shall harm you," she assured the babe, but it did nothing.

Lifting the infant into her arms she began to rock from side to side, whispering sweet things into Arwen's small pointed ears. When that did not work she thought of the song that her mother had taught her to sing as a small girl.

"Little Child be not afraid,

The rain pounds upon the glass,

Like an unwanted stranger there is no danger, I'm here tonight,

Little child be not afraid,

the thunder explodes and the lightning flashes, illuminates your tear stained face,

I'm here tonight, and someday you'll know that nature is so,

The same rain that draws you near me,

Falls on rivers and land, on forest and sand,

Makes the beautiful world that you see in the morning,

Little child be not afraid, the storm clouds masks a beloved moon,

And it's candle light beams so keep pleasant dreams,

Little child be not afraid."

Holding the again sleeping infant, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and the weight of her sister in her arms.

"I will always protect you, even when I am not here," she promised.

 **Here is the second chapter for this weekend as promised. If you're wondering about the lullaby at the end search for "Thranduil's Lullaby for Legolas" on youtube for the full version.**

 **Thanks, and please review!**

 **Robin**


	6. Chapter 5

"Arwen? Oh Arwen!" She called, a soft smile on her ageless face; leaning over a railing she peered into the garden below. A muffled giggle could be heard from somewhere below.

Hands on her hip, Thennil raised an eyebrow as she caught a glimpse of shimmery fabric behind a stone figure. Moving along the hallway she looked down into another part of the garden, pretending to search adamantly for the hiding girl. Moving curtains, looking beneath benches, and in all the many nooks and crannies that Imadlris had to offer she continued her fabricated searching, smirking all the while as she heard the soft footsteps of the elfling that was trying to get away. Skipping down the steps into the garden, Thennil twirled, breathing deeply of the cool, pure air, ignoring the dark head of hair that continued to move farther and farther down the stairs that led to another level of the gardens below. Sighing she took a seat on a bench, her back to the fleeing girl.

"What am I going to do? Naneth is going to have my head if I don't get Arwen to do her embroidery! Oh, what am I to do?" She wondered aloud.

Another muffled laugh echoed through the gardens as her charge decided to back track.

Mouth twitching in withheld mirth, Thennil slipped into the foliage of the garden when she saw that her sister's back was turned. Crouching low to the ground, she crept through the ferns, making her way steadily to the stream that trickled through the gardens. It would provide a perfect path through the thicker foliage that her young sister would be making her way through without a doubt. Ever so often she would peak above the bushes and vines to track the dark head that was trying to make their way through the bushes without stepping on a twig or rattling the brush to much. She had come to the brook and had quickly made her way up it's sandy bank, getting in front of her sister, and stepping behind a large stone carving that stood next to the bath her sister would come to, she waited.

It wasn't long before she could hear the grunts, squeaks, and giggles of the petite figure. She stumbled onto the path, panting from her excursion, and brushed a strand of black hair from her eyes. Straightening her shoulders, she looked around and smiled when she concluded that she had not been followed. Relaxing she flicked the clumps of dirt and leaves from her skirts and untangled her sleeves from the knots that they had somehow gotten themselves into. Upon finishing the inspection of her deep blue gown, she made her way down the path, darting glances behind her ever so often to check for someone following her. It was on one of these glances back that Thennil stepped out from the carving, arms crossed in front of her and a threatening frown gracing her normally joyful features.

Arwen stumbled when she collided with something in front of her. Snapping her head up, she cringed at the expression on her sisters face. She stepped back, staring at her foot while toeing the ground. She sighed, and looked up with her big grey eyes, giving her sister the puppy dog look.

"Yes?"

"You were supposed to be in the sun room twenty minutes ago."

"Aye?"

"And what were you planning on doing down here?"

"Uhh, I was going to visit-umm-Belonin, we were going to go see his aunt who's been ill."

"Really? the eyebrow rose even higher, I'm sure that I just saw him meeting with his aunt this morning and she looked quite healthy."

"Oh-

"Why are you avoiding your lessons, Arwen?"

"..."

"Hmmm?"

The child sighed in exasperation, "It's so boring! And no one ever has anything interesting to say. Naneth is always so patient, but she is always called away for something or another and I end up sitting with all the ladies. They all talk about the weather, their garden's, and what child has accomplished this or that. Sometimes the Elder Ladies tell stories, but it's so, so-

"Dull?"

"Yes, exactly, and I can never ask if they might tell another one."

Moving a finger to tap her chin, Thennil contemplated,"Well, I might have just the story for you-

"Really? You always know such good stories because you travel all over the place, where is this one from? Lothlorien? Angmar? The Greenwood?" Arwen begged, pulling on her sisters sleeve.

"But only if you consent to my instruction for today."

"Yes! Yes! Anything for one of your stories, Nesa!"

"Come then, let's retire, I will show you my favorite place to sew, then you can hear your story."

"Where is the story from?" the elfling questioned, following after her taller relation, a bounce in her step.

"Somewhere, far, far away."

"Is it from among Men?" Arwen asked as they stopped in her room for her to grab her sewing basket before going down a door to get her sisters things.

"Perhaps..."

"It must be, because whenever Naneth says perhaps, it normally means yes." Thennil chuckled at her sisters accurate opinion. "It's from Angmar then, that is the only place of Men that I remember you visiting recently."

"Nay, it is folklore of the men to the south, it was raining and we had to stop at an inn, there was an old woman there who was a good story-teller, but that was years ago." she replied, rummaging through her closet to find the many tunics that she had worn holes in from being on patrol among her many other duties.

"Thennil?"

"Yes, little one?"

"Why do you wear tunics while other elleth wear gowns and dresses?"

She paused in her searching, wondering what brought this up. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that...you don't look like other Ladies most of the time...and some of them say that you act more like an ellon than an elleth, but I know you're not!"

Turning from her things, Thennil took in the worried expression on her sisters face. Her sister had a right to be concerned, to a point. She had always had a difficult time fitting in with the other elleth of Imadlris, mostly because of the path she had chosen to take. She had always been secure in who she was, but to see her sister like this only made it more of a reality that she was different, very different. Recalling the words her mother had once asked her, she took her sisters hand and drew her to the bed, waiting for her to situate herself before speaking.

Taking a breath, she calmed her mind, and spoke:

"Arwen, what do I normally do?"

"Fight..."

"And?"

"Uphold the weak, protect the helpless, punish the guilty, and a few other's that I can't remember."

"Yes, but what are the other traits of a warrior of our people?"

"Well they're supposed to be gracious, kind, be willing when they are being taught, to know different arts."

"That's right, now what is a lady? Or what do lady's do?"

"Well, they sew, weave, take care of the elflings, they are kind, they teach other people, and at my age are taught, they are known for being kind in word and deed most of the time." Arwen paused, going over both of the lists that she had made. It was as if a light had gone on that had not been there before.

"Do you see the similarities?"

"They're both kind, they both know something of the arts, the teach and are taught. They really aren't that different other than the fact that elleth don't normally go on patrol and fight."

Thennil smiled,"I am still a lady, even if I dress in tunics and practice in the training field. Being a lady isn't just about the clothes that you wear or the things that you do, it is how you act, and how you treat other people. It's a choice."

"I want to be a lady, a lady like you and Naneth. But how do I choose to do the right thing? How do I know I'm doing what a Lady would do?"

"We will teach you, and in time you will know what is the right choice to make when something happens." She reassured her sister with a tight hug.

Looking up adoringly, Arwen smiled,"I love you, even if other people don't think you're a lady, I know that you are."

"And I love you, my little light, always," she whispered, her heart aching, knowing that she could never really be what her sister proclaimed her to be.

 **T.A. 1975**

Everything hurt, it burned, and yet it was cold, icy. It was like it was sucking the light out of her, leaving her dry of all hope. Laying there on the field of battle, bodies littering the ground, all she could think of was the bitter pain that resounded through her being, dragging her beneath its overwhelming waves. She could smell the death, it's stench flooded her nostrils, it would have caused her to choke if she had been able to breath properly. Twisting her head painfully, she gazed with unseeing eyes at the plain filled with her people and those of their allies.

Blood pooled in puddles, the smell of the dead sweaty bodies wafted through the air like a mist; the groans and cries of the wounded echoed pitifully, causing the healers to hurry in their movements. Many men broke down and began to wail at the sight of their many fallen comrades, they knew that the many wives and daughters back home would mourn this day for years to come. The healers worked as fast as they could, saving as many as they were able, but it was never enough. So many died, large graves were dug, and those who had fought valiantly were placed within. The elves bound up their wounded and buried their dead in graves that were covered with stone, an engraving of the date and a small limerick in honor of their sacrifice was carved into a stone that was set up as a marker for them to remember the evils that once burdened the world.

Even with all the death, and the destruction of the northern plains, hope began to grow slowly. Like a shy flower in the morning as the sun warms it, it began to bloom within the hearts of men and elves.

Many nights had she lay in a fevered sleep, raging in hallucinations that plagued her constantly. Her wounds were not easy to heal, even by her own father who was versed in such arts. Many nights he feared that he would loose her, her light seeming to fade before his very eyes. Word was sent to Galadriel, begging her to come and aid him in trying to save her. The elf came as soon as she received his summons, knowing that he would never call for her aid unless the situation was dire. Together they worked at healing their daughter, and granddaughter, putting all their energy into keeping her from passing over to the other side. Many times in her waking dreams she begged them to let her go, to release her from her pain, but they refused to give up.

"It is not only her future that hangs by a thread if she does not survive," Galadriel whispered when Elrond felt that all hope was lose, that he had exhausted all options available to save his daughter, "There are so many other's that will never come to be if her light diminishes. She must live."

Each one of her siblings came and sat with her when her fever abated, yet her fea lingered along the edges of death, unable to decide which it wished for more. Many days Arwen or her mother would sit beside her and tell her everything that had been happening, all the goings-ons, who had started training with her brothers or who was getting married. They wept openly, praying that the Valar and Eru would have mercy and bring her back from this deep sleep. Elladan and Elrohir would spend their nights guarding her, telling her of the pranks that they had pulled, or that they wished to pull, begging her to return to them so that they might band together as their unstoppable trio. Glorfindel visited from time to time, but with each visit he lamented more and more over his decision to train her, to teach her the ways of war. His time spent with her grew smaller and smaller, till he only peered in through her window at night to gaze on her pale, moon-lit face in hopes that she would awaken and that the joy would return to Imadlris. Elrond watched over his daughter with a heavy heart, tending to her, smoothing a strand of unruly hair into submission before messing it up again because it looked more like she had been running her hands through it. They mourned her, living though she was.

Summer hand turned to fall, and fall was on the brink of winter. The room where she lay was empty, everyone had left, the only noise was that of the wind through the trees, nature's song singing of the hope that the world still held on to. It was then that a pale hand twitched, spasmed, trembled. The movement moved to her white face as her eyes began to flutter, then open. Looking around her, she began to test her limits, stretching her unused limbs slowly, testing the waters. Upon realizing that she was still all intact she pushed back the soft coverlet and swung her legs over the side to the cool floor.

She Inhaled the fresh air before pushing off the bed and wobbling towards the mirror that hung from the far wall. Stumbling she gazed upon her face, then her body, before letting a tear fall. With unsteady fingers she traced a jagged scar that shown through the white cloth of her nightgown. It started at her right hip and traveled diagonally across her abdomen, skipping her breast, but ending in a white, puckered scar on her shoulder. Her breath was shaky as she looked at her face and realized for the first time that the sight in her left eye was not quite what it had been, it was hazy, and it only seemed to be able to define things that were practically right in front of her. Though there was no scar that could be seen outwardly, she knew in her heart that her ability to see far with that eye had slipped through her fingers. It was gone. The eye had become milky blue compared to the sapphire blue of her other eye.

She no longer looked the part of a lady, but a scarred warrior. One that had seen to much and who would never be able to view the world as he once had.

She had not heard the footsteps that had entered the room before she turned around. Tears flowed from her eyes like a stream down her face, gazing through them she saw her father. She rushed into his arms and wept, her breath ragged as he ran his fingers through her hair while murmuring soothing words into her ear.

Her world was changing, and she did not know if she would ever be able to accept it. Her heart ached, she felt as if she was slowly loosing everything that she had worked so hard over the years.

 **So, tell me what you think! I probably won't be posting until sometime mid to late next week because work dumped a ton of hours on me. Please ask questions, and I'll try to answer them in my next post.**

 **See ya!**

 **Robin**


	7. Chapter 6

**T.A. 1998**

The curtains of the room swirled in the breeze, rippling like waves on the sea shore. A lone figure stands before the window, looking out over the sunny gardens, silent like a ghost. Her gown whirled around her, it's long sleeves billowing out behind her. Her long copper hair curled in the breeze, sweeping in front of her eyes, it's tendrils playing with her nose as they brushed it gently. It was as if she were a living statue, carved of flesh and bone, yet if one looked in her eyes they would see a spark in their depths.

It was here in the healing halls that she had devoted her time. After her battle with the witch king of Angmar defending the young prince, receiving her wounds, and healing, she had forgone her training for a time. Devoting many years to the halls of healing had been the way to slowly heal her heart of the aches that plagued it as she remembered the many youths that they had lost in the battle against their enemy. Many nights she had lain awake for fear of the nightmares that would taunt her, make her believe that she could have saved more of her people from the death that had found them on those fields. She had gone to the mass grave that her kin had made for the fallen, and wept bitterly as she recalled the many close friends that she had lost there. Their names still haunted her, Andiron, Baingoldor, Hulon, Merethor, and so many others that died when they should have lived for thousands of years before sailing.

But with time she had reacquired her joy, though many times she caught herself slipping into sorrow when something reminded her of her many friends. Many times she had wallowed in her sadness, almost to the point of fading, but the efforts and needs of her family ruled out her own wish to pass over to the other side. Her brothers had drug her into their numerous pranks, waiting for that spark to return and for life to go on. They had invited her back to the training fields, begging her to teach them more, her skills far surpassed their own and that of the other warriors. She refused, remembering what her reckless nature in battle had cost her people in the end. Elrond had told her time and time again that her efforts had saved so many lives, that she was not to blame. In her heart she knew that it was true, but her mind told her that her father was wrong, that it was her fault. That she was responsible.

Lifting a pale hand, she pushed back the strand of hair that considered it it's job to tease her nose. She could hear the laughter and the shouts coming from the field, and every once in a while she was able to see one or another of the trainees, swords or daggers flashing in the afternoon light. Leaning against the window she listened intently to the words of instruction being shouted by the teachers; encouragement from those on the sidelines blocked out most of what the teachers tried to get through to their pupils. She smirked when there was a sharp, girl like yelp from one of the ellon, chuckling when she heard the jeers from his friends. This individual was going to have a hard time living down his mistake, the Hall of Fire would be alive with the retellings of his folly.

"I have wondered for a long time why you have refused to participate," her sisters soft, melodious voice spoke at her side.

"I do not really know, perhaps my heart needs to heal, before subjecting itself to the heartbreak that comes with battle," she whispered, longing reflected in her voice.

"Yet you long to be down among them, teaching the new trainees how best to protect themselves, why do you refuse to join them?" Arwen scolded, knowing what her sister longed for deep down.

"Because, because-

"Because nothing, Thennil, you are afraid of what you cannot change. They are gone, we will see then when we sail across the sea, why do you torment yourself so?"

"Because I was responsible for them! Because they should not have been sent out in that battalion! Because I should have trained then better! Because I should have never let them set foot in that training ground there! she cried, whirling around to pierce her with a withering look, I should never have gone charging off to defend that prince, they followed me to protect me when they should have been protecting themselves. I killed them." she ended in a whisper, hand over her heart.

"No! you gave them hope, they died doing what they loved doing, they were protecting the people of Arda from a great evil, just like you have done and still do. In the end everyone is made of flesh that can be cut and bones that can be broken, and bodies that can die, but what one does before with the time that they have is what matters. They gave their lives for something that they believed in with their whole heart. Do not take that away from them by living a life that does not reflect what you truly believe in, Thennil. You were meant for so much more, you just have to reach out and take hold of it."

A tear slide down her porcelain face as Thennil engulfed her sister in a tight embrace,"When did you become the one with all the wisdom, Nethig? I thought that was my job?"

Withdrawing a little, Arwen teased mildly,"I am just using what I have been taught by my big sister, she is very wise when she wants to be."

"Aye, when she wants to be," their mother's lilting voice fluttered through the room, as she leaned around the doorpost,"So, will you resume your training? Teach those young scamps what it really means to be a warrior of Imladris, hmm?"

Looking over her shoulder, Thennil smiled,"Maybe... but for now I think that I need to brush up on my skills, I'm a bit rusty."

She shifted into one of the positions clumsily, over exaggerating the movements to make her point.

Her mother chuckled, knowing that all had been set to rights because of the return of humor to her eldest daughter. She disappeared around the doorway to continue on her way, heart lighter than it had been in a long while.

"Rusty?" her sister huffed, raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes,"Is that even possible? I swear that I would believe that you were born with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other if Ada didn't say otherwise!"

"Really?" Thennil smirked, turning to follow her mother out of the room.

"Aye, because you defend us with one arm while with the other you shield us from the darkness that seeks to creep in upon us to destroy the light, you take the brunt of the attack so that we do not have to, you're our protector."

"I do remember making a promise once, a long time ago, but that was centuries ago."

"Who did you promise it to?"

"Someone that was very special to me."

"An Ellon?" came the innocent inquiry.

"What? No! I can't stand most of them, and this person was much smaller." she gasped out, nearly tripping over her skirts at the thought.

"What? No one has caught your eye yet?" Arwen giggled mischievously as they entered the older elleths room.

"Nooo..."

"Because I know that there are a ton of ellon that would fall over their feet to just sit next to you," she taunted.

"I have no time for boys," Thennil rolled her eyes as she sifted through her closet to find one of her many discarded tunics.

"Yeah, because your going to be getting on your big girl sword instead of that tiny dagger that you carry everywhere with you, plus you have to go save the world," the dark headed elleth flopped backwards onto the bed with a exaggerated sigh.

"Arwen, it's a dirk, not a dagger, but that's beside the point. You're a dramatic, one might even call you the queen of drama."

"Like you're any different? You've been mopping about for years since the Battle, and you think that I'm the drama queen?" she teased.

Shrugging her shoulders, Thennil stepped behind a changing screen, self-consciously aware of the raised scar that adorned her abdomen, still fading after the many years that had passed. After tossing her dress over the top she yanked on the clothes, hissing when her hair caught in the buttons that she had sew into it. She tied the strings of her trousers tightly and stepped out from behind the screen; reaching for her leather boots to pull them on, and wiggled her toes in the toe of the boot, remembering the feeling.

Turning, she gazed across the room at the large cherry wood chest. Her heart stuttered, and she took a second to mourn the lose of her comrades in arms before it began to pound rapidly in her breast. She lifted a hand to her chest and made a sign of farewell, bowing low to the Northern kingdom and whispered a prayer. Stepping confidently up to the chest she took a deep breath and blew across the surface, the dust spiraling up into the air like golden glitter in the sunlight. Lifting the latches reverently, she raised the lid and gazed down upon her weapons. She reached her hand down into the bottom and grasped the scabbard of her sword, seizing the handle she slowly withdrew the blade, reveling in the feeling of the leather grip in her hand. Dropping the scabbard she took up her stances and began to slash through the air, twisting and curving in water like movements, eyes closed as her muscles remembered their old functions.

Elrohir danced around his brother, laughing as the swing meant to take off his head missed him by a hairs breath. He lunged forwards, crashing his sword against that of his brother, he grinned as the duked it out. They both knew the strengths and weaknesses of the other, having memorized everything about each other from the moment that they could comprehend the world around them. He retreated, hoping to draw his brother closer, faking a left, then a slash at his legs, he froze as his twin dropped the point of his sword to the ground, face filled with astonishment at something that was behind him. Turning, his own face took on a look of awe at the sight that held his gaze.

There, standing with the light of the sun was his sister. The light was streaming across her face and her copper hair glinted and seemed to spark in the sunshine, like the molten metal within a furnace. Her eyes, though one was milky and unseeing, gleamed with an inner light of the most unique and wild beauty. Her dresses had been turned in for a tunic and trousers, with her uniform embroidered boots adorning her delicate feet. Her arms were arrayed with her stiff leather bracers, and at her side hung both her beloved sword, Celeg, and dirk, Tu,(pronounced Te-u). She was swamped in an inner light that looked like she glowed in a silvery golden haze, like the fairies that in legends. An unseen breeze made her hair ripple like the wind through the long grass on a mountainside.

The whole courtyard held their breath as they waited for her to speak, frozen like statues.

"One can only mourn so long for those that were lost before they forgets the reason that they were all living and fighting for. The time for mourning has passed and the time for action has come again. Hope has bloomed anew, though I keep none, I wish for those who are unable to protect their hope and joy have someone to do it for them. I will not stand by while the innocent are slain when a warrior should have been protecting them." She spoke solemnly.

"For, if we cannot protect it, who will?"

The price of freedom and hope was, and always had been high. It was a price that she was willing to pay so that others might partake in the joy that came with love and family. Because once you choose to hope, anything is possible. You just have to choose.

Please review and let me know what you think, and ask questions! Love y'all.

Robin

P.S. Probably won't be posting another chapter until next week/weekend. I have a busy week with college classes and work coming up, but I really had to get this chapter off my chest because the muse just wouldn't leave me alone, annoying little thing. It keeps telling me to change this and describe that. Uhh, she's exhausting!


	8. Chapter 7

"We must be aware that darkness is coming. We need a Head, someone to look to for direction," Galadriel pointed out for what seemed like the thousandth time. Would these men never get it through their heads that their life as they knew it could possibly be wiped out?

The men continued to bicker between themselves, gesturing with their hands wildly, ignoring the two seats that had remained silent until now. Their voices raised, calling out this fact or that this or that rumor was correct and trying to make sense of all the 'signs'. They couldn't seem to slow down and listen to the wisdom that the High Elf was trying to bring to their attention.

"Enough!" A silvery voice shouted, the figure standing from her throne-like chair, those arguing quieting at her outburst. "Thank you. We have come together to form this council, and all we have done is argue and bicker like small children over things that could eventually destroy our peoples. We need to choose a Head for this Council, and we need to do it before we get any further. Who shall it be?"

"I believe that our friend, Mithrandir, is a good choice. He is wise, he has a knack for seeing the potential in other people, and he is powerful when it comes to the gifts that the Valar have given him," Galadriel stated, feeling that he truly was the best person, or wizard, for the job.

"I am of the same opinion as my Grandmother, Mithrandir has shown time and again that he is reliable, and trustworthy, though you are quite meddlesome when you want to be," Thennil smirked, while the said wizard blushed a little.

"Nay, I will not take such a job, though it is kind of you to think of me," the wizard spoke, puffing on his pipe.

"Why ever not?" Cirdon questioned.

"I like to meddle to much for my own good, among other things, I would not be a good choice."

" _Mithrandir-_

 _"_ Nay, my friend, there is a time and a place for that position, and I do not wish for it, I have never desired power like that."

"Saruman then, will you be the head of our council?" Elrond asked, steepling his fingers before him as he rested his elbow on the table.

"Of course, it would be an honor," the white wizard uttered, though he seemed slightly put out that he was their second choice.

"Then it is decided, Saruman shall be our head, what is the first matter that we must discuss?" Galadriel pronounced, though she was sorely disappointed that Mithrandir had not chosen to take the seat as the Head of the Council, she knew that he would have been the best, even for his meddlesome ways.

"I have heard that Sauron has returned to Dol-Guldor," Mithrandir spoke, a ring of blue smoke floated out and up on the breeze as he blew it forth from his bearded mouth.

"Aye, I have as well, we may have need to actually fight in the near future, the darkness looks to be returning," Saruman stated, leaning forward on his white staff, it's crystal glowing.

Rolling her eyes, Thennil wanted to groan aloud,"Since when has there ever not been an issue with that fortress? The orcs and their smelly wargs tend to make it their home before we drive them out again. This has been happening for centuries, and need I remind you that it was I who did most of that driving out? I have been protecting the people of Middle Earth from East to West for longer than they remember?"

"Lord Elrond, is it really necessary for your daughter to be at this council? She is still young, and does not know the ways of the world, along with her attitude, it does not make for a pleasant conversation." Saruman sighed, leaning back into his seat, rubbing his forehead in irritation. The young Elrondian was granting on his nerves, her insolence is reprimanding them earlier was still fresh in his mind.

Before her father could speak, Thennil raised her eyes from the marble floor and looked straight into the old wizards eyes,"Forgive me, Saruman, but I will speak as I see fit. I have seen many of these worldly things of which you speak, and they are not beautiful in any way, they disgust me to no end. Until I see you arming yourself and walking into battle, please do not ask me to hold my tongue. I know the horrors of this world." _Along with the fact that you are a power hungry old man who is jealous of Mithrandir, which you do have some cause for because he is more pleasant that you._ She finished in her mind. He did not fully trust Saruman, he greed for power, though small now, could be his undoing in the future if he did not reign it in.

"Thennil!" Her grandmother warned, tone low in reprimand, her hands gripping the arms of her throne.

"I will not take back my words, because they are true. I for one do not wish to be apart of a council were a person cannot speak their own mind. I have seen and experienced what holding your tongue can do, and I will not participate in such a twisted thing as this could become," she spoke softly, knowing that her Father and even her Grandmother had some of the same trepidations about the wizard as she did, though they seldom voiced his concerns.

"There is some wisdom in the youths of Earendil's line," muttered Mithrandir, stroking his grey beard, pride shining in his eyes.

Saruman was not as impressed,"I think that this council is best left to those who are older, but you may remain if the other's prefer."

Those seated around them nodded their heads in agreement, she could stay, though it would not be pleasant.

 **Hours later**

"How can you not see that his strength is gathering? The ring has been lost for a millennia, but if he has returned then he anticipates that it shall reappear! Would it not be best to find this ring and stop him from further action? It could and would save so many innocent lives," she argued, very passionate about keeping those around her safe.

The council had spoken of many topics, picking them apart, examining them, and making calculated assumptions about ways to snuff the evil out. Everyone seemed to be avoiding the topic of Sauron, dancing around it like one would dance around a rabid dog, wary, and yet curious at the same time. After what seemed like centuries she had finally guided the conversation back to what worried her most, an old enemy whose whole plan was to bring every people to their knees before him. Being ignored by those who had more years to their name, but who had chosen to discard their wisdom was provoking her to no end.

"If Isildur had thrown it into Ordain, then we would not be having this conversation, but since he did not, you must pester us when there are other things at hand that are important!" Saruman huffed, beyond feeling any remorse for his tone when addressing the daughter and granddaughter of his companions.

"Isildur wanted no part of that, he felt that he could use it for good, but a thing crafted by such an evil being and for such an evil purpose cannot be redeemed so easily, if at all. I could not convince him to part with it once it was within his reach, though it pained me to do so," her father whispered, eyes glazed over as if he were reliving the moments over again.

"Since you were with him, and knowing the faint hearts that men have you would have been better to have taken it from him and tossed it in yourself or pushed him into the fires," the wizard growled, cracking his boney knuckles.

Everyone inhaled sharply at the wizards rude remark, though they were not totally fazed by his actions, he was very blunt and to the point when he was faced with what he felt was the foolishness of those around him, even if it was in face not as foolish as he thought it be.

"You would have had my father push the King of Gondor? His flesh and blood but distantly? It would be like murdering my cousin!" Thennil was shocked and angered by his words, especially because she remembered how much her father had loved his brother and the decedents that came after him.

"If it could have saved us from what is likely to come, then yes," the wizard stated.

She held her tongue, keeping her from saying anything in anger, but inside she was seething like a pot with a lid that contained the boiling water which at any moment could explode. _And he is said to love all living things, that even the life of the smallest insect that he steps upon and kills brings him great grief. How wrong those stories were! He disgusts me._

She spoke no more words during the continuation of the meeting, offering no insight where she really could have, her mind occupied with the things that had come out of Saruman's repugnant mouth.

Arwen jumped as a door slammed, and the normally imperceptible sound of her sisters feet was amplified, they slammed into the marble floors like a rockslide. Whirling around she came face to face with her sisters grumpy form. If she could have chosen one word to describe her sister it would have been either livid or out-raged. Her normally pale face was red with a fierce anger and her whole body was tense, like a stiff board. Thennil immediately went to her wardrobe and began to pull out tunics, jerkins, trousers, and the like with a furious flourish, tossing them onto the bed.

"What's going on?" she asked, worried by the actions before her.

"Oh, I just need a break from wizards that don't know how to be serious and actually think about things, oh, and he doesn't seem to care either!"

"So...?"

"I'm going on a sabbatical, which I have already let Glorfindel know about so that he doesn't schedule me for any patrols."

"Where will you go?"

"Who knows, but I just need to get away, breath a little before coming back and having to deal with him again."

"How could Mithrandir make you this mad, you get along so well with him," Arwen panicked.

"It's not Mithrandir, or at least not directly, it's Saruman who I have a bone to pick with."

Arwen sat on the bed, extremely puzzled by her sisters use of words,"Pick a bone with?"

Thennil paused in her rapid movements, recognizing the look on her sister's face,"It means that I'm frustrated at him for something he won't do."

"Ohhh, it's one of those strange sayings from among men, right?"

"Yeah, you'll get it one day."

 _I hope so, she uses so many of them it's like she's one of them!_ Arwen thought, running her hand through her black hair.

"When will you be back?"

"No clue, probably not for a while."

"Will you write?"

Thennil began to shove the clothing items that she planned on bringing into a satchel, "I'll try, but you know that getting it to you through reliable means is not very likely."

Arwen nodded before standing to help her older sibling pack, choosing one of the dresses that her sister could actually could stand wearing.

"Why are you packing me that one? It's not like I'll have an occasion to wear it," she shook her head, copper locks shining in the pale light of the sun filtering through the curtains.

"Who knows, maybe you'll end up in the halls of King Thranduil, or with Grandmother at some point. You'll want to look your best! I have heard that the prince of the Greenwood is very handsome..."

"Yes, and blonde, no thanks, I don't need a man hanging on me," she shuddered.

"There's nothing wrong with blonde, I rather like that color, don't you like the color of Glorfindel's hair?" Arwen sighed dreamily for effect.

"On him, it works, but in general I don't prefer blonde, it's more likely to look like a silvery white because he's Thranduil's son."

"But he's a prince!"

"And I'm way older than he is, not going to work, stop trying to set me up. I doubt there's a elf out there who would have me anyway, so enough with matchmaking!" Thennil scolded, though their was no real threat in her tone.

"Whatever, one day someone is going to come in and sweep you off your feet, and you'll end up in love, but you won't know what to do with yourself," Arwen said seriously.

"I seriously doubt it, and I believe that you can never be wise and in love at the same time, it just doesn't mix. You get distracted, you mess up or make a mistake, and they end up dead or you end up heartbroken, no love is for those who don't have to make decisions that impact many people."

Thennil pulled the strap of the satchel over her shoulder and hugged her sister,"You can find love, Arwen, don't be afraid of it like I am."

Arwen nodded, though she did not agree, holding her sister tightly, a single tear leaking out from the corner of her eye as they parted. Thennil left the room in a hurry, probably taking the quickest and most untraveled way to the stables in her effort to get away unnoticed. Moving to the window after nearly ten minutes of watching the door through which her sister exited, she waited for the glimpse of her sister's dappled grey stallion to disappear through the gate. She did not have to wait long, there was a flash of grey and copper as the horse galloped out through the open gate and into the valley.

"You'll find love someday, and when you do you'll know its love because all you will want is for the other person to be happy, even if you keep yourself from being that things that brings them the most joy. I hope you realize that."

 **Hey guys, here's another chapter, which my muse just dropped in my head...so yeah, enjoy and review please!**

 **Robin**


	9. Chapter 8

If she had known that she would end up saving the chieftain of the Dunedain's butt and ended up living with his people, Thennil was sure what she would have merely been wandering around Middle Earth looking for something to occupy her time till she had felt that she was civil enough to be among people again.

It had been totally random when she stumbled upon a group of men, women, and children traveling that were being attacked by a large herd of orcs. She had instantly snapped into defensive mode and dove into the fight, not caring that she didn't even know who the people had been. There had been many men who had fought, but it was the tall, dark haired, man who seemed to shine with an inner light that had caught her attention. He stood alone, sword raised and flashing, fighting off six orcs that towered over even his tall height. She could tell that he was becoming weary, and was not aware of his surroundings. The orcs had noticed his slowness too, and had begun to circle around him, making him turn to watch each of them for a second. She had known that they would show him no mercy, and leaping over the fallen bodies of the orcs that she had slain, had sprinted through the malay, ducking and weaving around the swinging weapons of both sides. With a great battle cry she had flung herself in amongst the group that had nearly overpowered the man, hair splayed out, flashing in the sunlight like a ball of raging fire. Her sword cleaved the orcs like a knife through butter, smooth and clean, but they had seemed to never end. It was in that moment that she saw an orc with a twisted face and missing half of a nose sneaking up behind the man, blade raised to bring the killing blow. Within a moment, she had withdrawn one of her daggers and tossed it with the precision, embedding it deep within the beast's forehead; saving the man.

It was in that moment that everything slowed down to normal speed and the enemy had been vanquished. Everyone had paused to regain their breath, some closing their eyes, but others had turned their faces towards the being that had flown in like a protective mother bird against a large hawk or eagle, willing to give her life. The dark-haired man had risen from his place kneeling next to a comrade and bowed before her. She in turn had bowed deeply before asking who he was.

He was Arahad, chieftain of the Dunedain. It had been surprising how quickly they had gotten along. He had introduced her to his wife, son Aragost, and two daughters, then everyone had started thanking her for what she had done. Overwhelmed she had brushed off their thanks and told them it was an honor for her to come to their aid. Ignoring her protests, they had made her join them in their journey to one of the many settlements of their people that were scattered throughout the north. And she had.

For many years, she sat on Arahad's council, helping him protect his people, and encouraging him. Though they became good friends, it was his son that she got to know and teach. Aragost had begged her to teach him how to fight like she did, and she jumped at the opportunity. During many of their sparring matches they would speak of the differences between their cultures and argue over the way the advances of the elves could be applied to the daily lives of his people. He was immensely fascinated by her people's knowledge of healing, asking many questions, storing the answers and information up in his brilliant mind. He kept himself so very busy that there never seemed to be a moment of rest for himself unless forced to by herself or his wife. Thennil could not understand why he was so stubborn, kept himself so insanely busy, but she vowed that one day she would find out his reason.

 **T.A. 2496**

"Seriously, Aragost, why are you pushing yourself so hard? I know that you want to please your father, but is it too much for you to slow down and take a break? Why must you continually think up things to do? What are you keeping yourself from thinking of that worries you so much?" Thennil asked one early morning as they sat around one of the ranger fires miles away from the settlement.

She had watched him much over the passing years and saw the changes that he had made in his life. It had worried her immensely, the time that he was spending away from his wife, who loved him dearly and begged him to remain home longer. She had reprimanded him gently time and again like a mother that his wife needed him and that it was his duty to take care of her.

He sighed, pulling at the hair like his father did when he was thinking of something that pained him.

"Spit it out, I have watched to many people bottle up their worries to have them explode in front of a large group of people and regret it. I will not judge you, have a little faith," she encouraged while being firm.

"I-uhh- where to start…"

"There is always a root to our fears, so that's a wonderful place to begin."

He stood and began to pace around the fire, flicking his eyes to her every few moments, uncertain of how to proceed. He pulled at a lock of his hair again, then wrung his hands nervously. She waited from her seat upon the ground, knowing that eventually he would tell her what was bothering him. His pacing went on for many more minutes; the fire was slowly dying, turning to glowing red embers as she waited.

Finally, he stopped, and facing away from her murmured, "I fear that I shall never have a son, nor any children at all."

She waited for him to continue, knowing that he needed to say everything within his own time.

"Gwendolin and I think that she is barren, we have tried for so long to have a child, but have no one to show for it. We have dreamed of the many feet running across our floors in the night, or playing with them in the grass outside our cottage. I have begged the Valar to bless us with any child that they see fit, but they have not answered, what must I do? I have done everything that I can, and so has my Gwen. She has seen so many midwives and healers asking if there is some cure. I can't bear to see her sad eyes when she sees me each time I enter the door of our cottage," He had started to weep as he had let his heart speak.

"I have often wondered if it is I who am the one to blame, if it was something that I did, taking an innocent life or some such thing that I cannot remember-

"NO! No Aragost, it is not your fault by any means!" she cried, jumping to her feet and putting an arm on his shoulder, "And neither is it Gwen's, you have done nothing wrong, you have more mercy and grace than any man that I have met up to this point in my long life, do not drag yourself down by your words."

He looked up into her face, his own marked by the tears that had made their journey down to his beard, "Then why have we not been blessed with a child? We have been married for years, why?"

"I don't know why you have not been blessed with the gift of a child up to this point," she whispered, eyes glazing over, her skin seemed to a glittering golden light as the sun filtered through the tree, "A child shall be born to you, and he will be your pride and joy, this I know. Take heart, Little One, hope is still there, you just have to believe."

It was as if the whole forest knew that something wonderful had happened as the birds started to sing their songs loud and beautiful, rejoicing. Aragost looked upon the face of his friend in awe, having never seen her take on such an angelic glow as she did now. His tears had ceased, and hope had sparked within his heart. Perhaps his dream was not so far out of his reach.

"I pray that your words are true, the hope that they give me is small, but I will trust you, mellonin," he whispered, gripping the hand she had placed on his shoulder tightly.

Shaking herself from the strange trance that had overtaken her, she replied, "As do I, as do I."

Months passed, and though it was like a minute of time to an elf, Thennil felt it. She had seen the hope bloom in the hearts of her friends more and more as they believed that someday, wither it was in the present or in the future, that they would have a child, a son. And so, it was that she found herself seated outside the cottage one summer evening, watching the sun fade over the horizon, waiting for a noise from the inside of the occupants within. Aragost paced a long circle in the grass outside his home, praying that the Valar would have mercy on his wife. They had been waiting for hours, and the cries and moans of Gwen had started to grate on Aragost's resolve and confidence.

"What is taking so long?" he whispered, thinking that it was for his ears only.

"Patience, my friend, it is your first, and they normally take the longest to arrive," she chuckled, knowing that her own father had said something akin to a young guard about his wife when he had asked the same question.

"Patience? How can I be patient when my wife who is in there suffering and I can do nothing about it?" He questioned, staring her down.

"Yes, good things come to those who wait," she smirked, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cottage wall.

This silenced him; he turned back and began to pace again before pausing and then turning back to walked over the ground he had covered. His face was emotionless to any passer-byer, but she could read the range of emotions through his eyes, fear, joy, pride, worry, and most of all hope.

Just as the last rays of sunshine were flickering over the valley, the house grew deathly silent. Hearing no noise, Aragost turned from his pacing, an expression of all out panic on his features, and rushed towards the door of the cottage. Leaping from her seat, she caught him before he could go barging in, having to almost wrestle him to the ground as he fought her. Tears were flooding down his face, he feared that the worst had happened.

"Peace, mellonin."

"How can you say that? She-she's- he could not even finish the sentence, all the fight leaving his body as he leaned heavily against her. She saw his despair, and though she did not show it, she was smiling internally. She could hear things that he could not.

It was when he had fallen on his knees to the ground that a shrill, piercing wail burst forth from within the cottage accompanied by the sound of laughter from the women. Aragost froze, barily believing the sounds that he heard, eyes glued to the door, holding his breath. Grabbing him by the arm she yanked him up from the ground, and helped him stand to his feet. He was nearly shaking when the door finally opened, revealing one of the midwives, Mara, and a small bundle of cloth. She smiled and slowly made her way to the man before gently laying the infant in the waiting arms of his father.

The look of absolute awe that came over the face of her friend made Thennil smile sadly, remembering the times that she had done something alike to it with her three siblings. It was an amazing thing that something so small, so delicate, so fragile could be made by two people who loved one another deeply. As Aragost cradled his small son, whispering words of praise in the little ear, she felt a deep pain in her heart, one that she knew would never be eased in this world. Slowly she began to back away from the duo, making sure that she made no noise. It felt like she was intruding on a very private moment, one that should not include her.

Aragost looked up from his child, glimpsing her about to turn away, and called out excitedly, "Come, Thennil, let me introduce to you my son!"

Knowing that it would be extremely rude to refuse, she slowly made her way up to the place where she had been sitting. She seated herself on the bench she had been occupying and opened her arms to take the babe. As he was passed into her arms, Aragost smiled down at the face of his son, almost bursting with pride as his son snuggled closer before opening his eyes.

The inaudible gasp that she let out at the look in the child's eyes shocked her. It was as if he knew who she was, such was the familiarity that filled his gaze. He reached up and snagged a piece of her copper hair, pulling on it. She smiled sadly, reaching with one hand and smoothing the tuft of hair that stuck up on his dainty head.

"What shall you call him?"

"His name shall be Aravorn, son of Aragost, of the line of house of Isildur."

"May every sunrise hold more promise, and every sunset hold more peace, and may the stars shine on the paths that you take, Forn Elenion," she spoke the blessing over the child. (North Star).

Many nights later found her in the possession of the small child, his parents being exhausted by the lack of sleep. She had told him stories of his ancestors, the great deeds that they had accomplished, but she also told of their failures, reminding him that not all men are strong enough to endure temptation. He listened silently, staring up at the stars in the sky when she told of her people and the fascination that they had with the stars, how much they wished that they could walk among them. As she watched the planets dance over the mountains, she began to rock the child in her arms a song began to be birthed as she looked over the lands, cradling him against her chest:

Land of bear and land of eagle

Land that gave us birth and blessing

Land that called us ever homewards

We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

Land of freedom land of heroes

Land that gave us hope and memories

Hear our singing hear our longing

We will go home across the mountains

Someday our savior will come

Someday he'll come on the ships of the sea

Someday he'll stand at our head

Someday he'll come

Where have all the good men gone

And where are all the gods?

Where is the wise Knight to fight the rising odds?

Someday, our King will come

When the land is there before us

We have gone home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

Our King will lead us home

Home across the mountains in a bright shining splendor

Our King Will lead us home!

 **T.A. 2508**

"Your it, Forn Elenion!" She laughed, dancing away from the eleven-year-old boy after tapping him on the shoulder.

"Not fair, Thennil!" the boy shouted, swiveling on his feet to run after her.

She teased him, running slow enough that he could catch up, but speeding up when he was a hairs-breath away from her. Round and round they went throughout the village, and around the cottages, dodging people and animals in their quest to escape and catch. The boy stumbled over a trio of smaller boys and girls, who they themselves were running to avoid him. They squealed and shouted joyfully in the fall weather, bringing smiles to all whom they passed.

"Aravorn, I'm going to get you!" the young girl called, weaving through the crowd after the boy.

"Not a chance, Lydia, I'm too fast!" He shouted, making his way towards the cottage as she caught up to him.

Thennil smirked, and stuck a foot out, tripping the young lad and causing the bunch of children to topple over one another into a pile at her feet. The older boy, Aravorn, glared up at her from the bottom of the pile, squirming to try and get out from under the wiggling arms and legs that had gotten tangled. She smiled cheekily and made her way to the spot beside his mother who was mending yet another pair of her son's trousers.

Gwen chuckled, elbowing her old friend, "You are so good with the children, it's a wonder that you don't have any of your own!"

The joy that had been bubbling up in her eyes seemed to evaporate almost instantly, but she hid it from the woman with a shrug, "It takes two to make one, so that isn't going to be happening any time soon."

"Any why ever not? You're a beautiful young elf, surely some young ellon around your age would love to have you as his wife."

"Nay my friend, they are looking for someone who will sit mildly by and mend their clothes and cook their dinner. They don't want someone that will risk their life out on the field of battle, it is not how it works among my people," she shook her head, rolling her shoulders.

"Well then, the young men need some sense knocked into their heads, who wouldn't want someone that could protect their back on the field?" Gwen tisked, tying a knot in the mending that she had finished.

"It's not just the fighting, they want someone who is innocent-

"Thennil- Gwen gasped, giving her a reprimanding look- how could you, and you being the daughter of a lord!"

Her jaw nearly hit the ground, "No! No! That's not what I meant _at all_ I was talking about innocent as in no scars, no battle wounds, and the like."

Gwen fanned her face, closing her eyes with relief, "I'm glad that it isn't that, the way you used _innocent_ totally construed what I thought you were saying."

"Nay my friend, I am afraid that the males of my race do not find satisfaction in scars in their women, whereas your people see them as a sign of strength and reverence, mine do not. Being blind in one eye doesn't help much either," she chuckled mirthlessly.

Gwen spoke no more, seeing the pain in her friend's eyes, the longing. If only Thennil could see how worthy she was, how beautiful even with her scars, then she might have been willing to try love.

 **So the song/songs that I used to create the one Thennil sings are: Song of the Exile-from the movie King Arthur, A Hero Comes Home-from the movie Beowulf, and Holding on for a Hero-by Bonnie Taylor. The music that I imagine it being sung to is Song of the Exile. I do not own any of the songs. Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Please review!**

 **Robin**


	10. Chapter 9

Standing tall on top of the ridge, Thennil watched the pass, eyes unwavering, every muscle tense, waiting. She was much like the statues at home in the garden, frozen in time. She had sat upon this hill for days, waiting for her mother and her escort. But she had seen no one. Grant it, her mother's guards were known to take their time when traveling, making sure that she was always comfortable and well watched over. It unnerved her how long it had been since she had heard the news. The orcs had started to increase slowly in their numbers within the misty mountains and the goblins were not so frightened of the sunlight as they had once been. Deep in her gut she wondered if something had gone wrong.

"I can't sit here any longer, Arthmos, I am going to meet them, where ever they are," she told the near invisible man who stood next to her, unmoving.

"Perhaps they are just late, Todaphel, your people tend to take their time when traveling." He replied, crossing his arms.(Guard-daughter)

"I am unsure, I have felt the darkness growing, and I do not trust that the roads that were once safe are the same."

"Wait another day, then go after the escort, it cannot hurt to be certain." He tried persuading her.

"Nay, I shall leave this minute, tell the children that I shall see them soon," she stated, whistling a long high note into the morning air, "Make sure that Aravorn continues the drill that I have been teaching him, I will not tolerate any slacking."

He chuckled softly, and nodded.

From the woods behind them a stallion trotted forth, summoned by her whistle. He held his head high, mane billowing in the wind, and tail flying like a flag. He was a magnificent beast, dapple grey in color with feather hair that grew on his legs. Her father had gifted her the horse many years ago on her begetting day, and he had been most useful.

Swinging up on to the stallions bare back she looked over her should, "If I do not return within three days, sent a messanger to Rivendell, something has wrong!"

"Aye, we shall wait your coming!" She nodded and snapping the reigns, sprinting down the ridge, hair flying, sun at her back and heart beating quickly.

Trotting down the path upon her mount, her mind ran over the many different things that could have gone wrong with her mother's escort. They could have left late, one of the rivers that they had to cross could have been too high, they had met someone on the way and that had delayed them.

"Something must have come up, she reasoned with herself, "that is the only reason that they could be late."  
Deep in her heart she knew that this was untrue, she could sense that something was wrong. The Mountains had become too quiet, too still. The creatures that lived within it's shadows were hushed in their movements, ever watchful. The rangers had found tracks of newer Orc packs that they had not seen before, and had begun to hunt them down in small groups. It was not enough, she had told them; the orcs were multiplying like she had never remembered, and it worried her. She knew that within the last month they had found tracks for a large group of orcs that had been moving around this area, but they hadn't seen any signs of them within the last few weeks. Her heart nearly stopped. They had been scouting out the area, looking at the Redhorn Pass' vantage points and where it would be easiest to attack an unsuspecting traveler. Urging Talagor on faster, she prayed that she wouldn't be too late to warn the escort. She had to be in time!

Riding around one of the bends in the path two days later she stopped abruptly, jaw hanging open. Flinging herself from her mount she rushed forward and fell to her knees before the scene that met her aching eyes. The ground was littered with the bodies of her people, torn and bloodied. It was apparent that they had been lying there for a day or two at least, the ground soaking up the blood like a sponge. There were limps dismembered from the bodies, and the faces of the slaughtered were twisted with the pain of their last moments. The clothes of some of the warriors had been ripped and torn from the bodies, and the hair of some of them had been hacked off. She had choked at that sight. The hair of her people was considered sacred, never to be cut unless some great doom had befallen their people, if ever. Strewn among the bodies of her people were the bodies of a few Orcs, larger than she had seen before, and twisted with evil.

She wailed, heart breaking at the sight. Tears flowed from her eyes as she stumbled to her feet and made her way among the slain, trying not to look at the faces of those she had known. But alas, it couldn't be helped, especially when she came upon a few of her brethren that had been torn to shreds, making her almost vomit at the sight. The orcs had clearly decided to make a meal out of their kills. Her mourning turned to anger as she continued her way, weaving between the dead looking for her mother's body. These orcs had no honor whatsoever!

Her eyes began to glow silver as she began to realize that her mother was not to be found among the bodies that lay at her feet. Rushing through, moving bodies, and muttering prayers under her breath she searched quickly, hope above hope that she had just missed her. When she had looked amidst the fallen twice over she shakily concluded that her mother was not there.

"Where could she have gone?" she wondered aloud, not wanting to think about the alternative before she had to.

Turning to the abilities that she had honed over the years of her existence, she began scanning the ground. It was littered with the tracks of the orcs, moving away from the group of dead elves she crouched low to the ground, observing the tracks and where they moved along the path. They were around a day, two at the most, old, going by the way that the dirt around them had settled and the small amount of water that had pooled in the indents. There were many larger footprints, some without the strange boots that the beasts made from the hides of their victims. Crawling along upon the ground she followed them, and soon noticed that there was one pair that seemed to have made a deeper imprint than the others. Amongst the matted soil in the area she saw that there were smaller, lighter footsteps, which she surmised must belong to an elf, of which she was certain was her mother. Further up the trail she found a delicate leather shoe, one that was defiantly a elleths riding shoe. She climbed up the side of the path, following the trail, noticing smaller indications that the Orcs carried a prisoner with them.  
Heart in her throat she whistled for Talagor, shutting out the images that appear within her mind as she realized what the orcs could possibly be doing to her mother. Mounting up she used some of the training that she had received on a visit to Lothlorien with her grandmother. Whispering a few words to the wind that was swirling around her she sent a message to her brother's in hopes that they would hurry to her aid, she prayed that she would make it in time.

She had been late. Horribly, shamefully, deplorably, late.

Her brothers had joined her not long after her message was sent, somehow having known that something was wrong long before she had send any word. When she told them of what she had seen and where she believed that their mother had been abducted to, their anger had been like nothing she had ever seen. They had set out immediately, her in the lead having already been on the trail of those they pursued, riding at a fast pace. When they had come upon the place where the orcs rested, a pit filled with the bones of past prisoners and spider webs, the showed no mercy. None were left alive as the righteous anger of the three siblings raged before them like a well-oiled machine.

When they had rushed into the darkness, a light shining from the white crystal that lay upon Thennil's breast, they were rattled at the declined state of their mother. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her hair, ripped out in places. And the state of her fea that Thennil could sense was battered and had a shadow covering it, it was broken and the light that still tried to shine had quickly been fading.  
They had cautiously crept up to the crumbled woman that they had known as their mother, trying not to startle her. She had come shakily with them out of the dark pit that the beasts had drug her to, clinging to her daughter tightly, like she was her only anchor. Thennil had held her and murmured calming words, all the while urging her stead on faster. She could feel how the darkness was seeping deeper and deeper into her mother's being, battling with the weak light that radiated out. When they were not far away she had sent Elladan to ride ahead to have their father prepare a room in the healing ward, fearing the worst.

And that was where most of the siblings sat, helping their father heal their mother as best they could. It was after nearly after months that the four began to despair of their mother ever really returning to them. The Orcs had truly done their job right, snuffing the light within their mother to barily a flicker. She had become empty, like a shell.  
The twins anger continued to grow, and many times when there was word that an orc pack had been sighted, no matter how large or small, the disappear into the shadows and no one would see them for a few days. They would come back covered in the black blood, hair disheveled and clothes a mess, the animosity in their eyes dimmed for them moment, but never fully quenched by their lust for the blood of their mother's abductors.  
Arwen had taken to watching over her mother, telling her of the things that were going on and the weather. She refused to speak of her mother's capture, hoping that by ignoring it that it might fade and be as if it had never been. She tried to continue where she had left off, but everyone could see how hard it was for the young she-elf to admit that her mother was not the same, that who she had been was never going to return. She merely turned a blind eye.  
Elrond, try as he might, could only heal her body, but her mind and spirit never truly recovered from the torment and poisoned wound that she had received while among her captures. Many times she would tell him that she had no wish to stay in Middle-earth any longer, but he would persuade her to wait, to see if she would change her mind. She didn't.  
Thennil took the change of her mother hardest, knowing that if she had been sooner, that if she had been faster or had decided to meet her mother when she had invited her to join the escort before leaving Lothlorien, that none of this would have happened. She blamed herself for her deterioration. Her family would find her staring off into the distance, a blank haunted look in her eyes. She should have reacted sooner.

"Thennil, please, I need you back to yourself," Elrond begged her one evening when he found her languishly standing on a bridge overlooking the valley with a vacant expression. "I can't have you fall into despair like your mother, my heart cannot take anymore."  
She creaped back out of her mind, and turned to her father, tears in her voice, "It was my fault, I felt it in my fea, I knew that something had gone wrong, but I waited till the last minute. I could have saved her, and all of those who died trying to keep her safe. They would all still be alive an enjoying the stars if I had but acted sooner!"

"You did what you could! You used the wisdom that you had and made a decision, do not fault yourself for making what ou think was the wrong one," he cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a shake, "If you had gone after them sooner I'm sure that I would not be losing only your mother! My heart could not bear to lose two of those that I love at the same time, Thennil, I fear that I would fade."

Hearing her father's admission, her heart stopped, and she asked in a hoarse whisper, barely believing her ears,"You have thought that you might fade?"

He nodded, eyes showing his true age, heavy with grief, "But I have not. I have you and your siblings to live for, you are my hope, the star that shines bright in the morning and evening. I cannot lose you both! Do not leave me, daughter!"

Trembling at his words, she threw herself into his arms, reaching up to brush the few tears that he hd not managed to reign in away with her slender fingers. "I will not fade, Ada, though I don't know how much longer I can go on watching Naneth suffer. You must let her go, or else she is going to resent you ad what you have done for her."

Her father closed his eyes, knowing that she spoke the truth, "I had hoped that I could heal her enough that her fea would become like it once was, she has become so empty that it breaks my heart. I have tried everything, but some things cannot be mended by elven hands."

"She longs for the shores of Valor," she murmured, looking to the West.

"Aye, she does, and I have been trying to change her mind. I knew all along thought that I would not be able to hold out on her long. I have never been able to withhold anything from her that she asked for, and so it shall be the same for this."

They had traveled as one company, their family, among the other's that were making their way to the Grey Havens. They passed through the hills and valleys, skirting the beginnings of the Shire, all the while enjoying the starts of spring that could be seen. The flowers and plants were beginning to bloom and the sent of their blooms permitted the air. The traveling was slow, with much mournful singing and silence. The weight of the departure of their people weighed heavily on their shoulders. The Four siblings tried to occupy themselves with conversations and small games to to avoid the thought of their mother leaving them, though it hung like a dark cloud over the backs of their minds.

They arrived at the Havens in late May, and were guided to the rooms that they would be staying in for the time up until the departure of the ship, which was still a small way out. They rooms were spacious, but not as homily as their own back in Imladris where each had their own things lying about. They were mainly used for those who would be leaving the world of Middle-earth, so there was not many things that decorated the place. There biggest feature was there high ceilings and many windows facing the sea.

Thennil found it hard to remain indoors, even when she wanted to spend ever moment of her waking life with her mother before she departed, but it seemed to suffocate her to abide in the halls. When she was not sitting at her mother's feet she was out exploring and investigating the workings of the port along with the woods and beaches that surrounded the settlement. She was not overly fascinated with the sea, it was beautiful, yes, but she was thankful that she had not felt it's cal yet. The thought of getting in a boat and sailing away from everything that she had known and those that she had made promises to pained her. For hours she would ride Talagor through the woods, letting the wind rush through her tresses and whip against her face, wiping away all that was to come for a few short moments. Then it would all come rushing back in rapid succession, bringing her closer and closer to the day of her mother's departure with surprising speed.

Walking down the halls of the Haven, she took a deep breath before turning down the one that led to her families chambers. Slowly she made her way up to the door of her parent's apartments, knocking softly before entering. Holding her emotions in check she lifted her skirts as she walked up the stairs to the enclosed balcony, unsurprised to see her mother sitting in the middle of her three siblings, white blond hair shining out from amidst the dark black of her young children. Her father stood behind them all, gazing out at the sea.

Looking up, her mother smiled sadly, "There is my little star," she murmured and Thennil released the hold that she had gripped her emotions with, a large tear leaking out from the side of her eye as she dropped to a crouch beside her mother. Leaning against her knee, she crossed her arms and looked at her siblings. Her sister was weeping silently, still in denial over the whole event. Her mother, her Naneth, could not have chosen this, to abandon them.

"I have my morning and my evening star's, both glowing brightly, so filled with hope," Naneth muttered, turning to her sons, "And my two pranksters, my laugh bringers," she chuckled sadly, "It has been my greatest joy and gift to be able to bring you into this wonderful world, to teach you, watch you grow. I could have never asked for a better life, I have been so greatly blessed."

"Must you really go?" Thennil gasped in desperation, having buried her head in her arms atop her mother's knees, "I need you!"

"Nay, my loves, you have never really needed me," their mother smoothed out the copper locks that had spilled over her lap with her long fingers, "You have always been able to take are of yourselves, running towards new and exciting things, some I knew that you would. I seldomly saw you, you were so curious about the world around you."

"Was there something that I could have done? Anything that would make you stay?" She pleaded, raising her tear stained face from her arms to look her mother in the eyes.

Her mother traced her face with her slender fingers, much like she had done with each of her siblings at their births, "You have always been so different from your siblings, they take after your father so much, with little bits of me thrown in there somewhere, but you, you have never really looked like them with your molten copper and fire like hair. You know, at first your father thought that you must have been switched with some child that belonged to Glorfindel, you looked so fair." she kissed her daughters forehead with soft lips, "So fiery, so passionate about life in the beginning. You were and always have been such a wanderer, exploring everything that you could get ahold of."

"Is the color of my hair so important? Or the matter of my birth? I am your daughter, and I need you!" She cried, flinging her arms around her mother's white neck.

"My noble little evening star," her mother cooed, turing to her youngest, "Do not lose your hope in the beliefs that good and wonderful things can happen, even in this present darkness. For every darkness must pass away, giving birth to a bright light. You have always been so in tune to the emotions of others, do not let this turn you into someone who is cold and unfeeling, you have so much to offer."

Looking her boys in the eye, she drew them into an embrace, "Do not let this anger control your choices, my sons, it will only lead you down a dark path that many have never recovered from. Do not let this lust for revenge could your vision, it is not in you hands to control the fate of those you love."

"We will try to, Naneth," they whimpered, soaking up every ounce of the time they had with her.

"Come, my children, my ship is scheduled to leave soon," she stood from the whicker chair, slivery gown billowing like a gentle breeze around her, light and airy. If she had not birthed her two daughters she could have rivaled the beauties of old, even Luthien. Even though she felt the darkness weighing down on her, in her last moments with her family she let the strength and love shine, which had attracted her husband to her in the first place, bathing them all in it's soft, comforting light.

They all wanted to beg her to stay, but they knew that her decision had been made. They would never be able to change it.

Standing aboard the ship, Celebrian spoke softly with her family, giving them advice and encouragement with small bits of hope for the future. The captain and his crew worked diligently to prepare the ship for departure, checking the sails and judging the weather and the speed of the current. Soon, they were ready to leave the port. The whole port became silent, the moorings were pulled and the sims let loose, ready for the final journey. Everyone watched as it slowly edged its way into the current, holding their breath.

Not being able to stand the silence that hung over the people, Thennil descended down the stairs to the dock, all the way to the edge. She watched as the boat moved farther and farther away, lifting her hand in farewell, she began to sing:

"Words, words are not enough

For me to say how much I'll miss you

You flew away too soon

I feel so alone without you

But when I close my eyes

Every night

I'll hear your voice like and angel

And you'll be here again by my side

I swear, I'll hear your words

They'll sing through me

And I'll be back where I belong

You are here even though you are gone

You'll be here, everywhere I go

Deep inside my heart forever

And one, one sweet day I know

We will be back together

But until we are, here in the dark

I hear your voice like an angel

I hear your voice like an angel

And you're here with me by my side

I swear I'll hear your words

They sing through me

And I'm back where I belong

You are here even though you are gone

And I know that aside you live on."

She waved one last time as the ship seemed to disappear over the horizon, taking her mother to lands far abroad, and turned away.

 **So, the beginning is a little bumpy, but I'll be smoothing that out later when I go through and re-edit stuff after the muse is finished with me.**

 **Muse: Finished with you? And when is that supposed to be?**

 **Me: WHAT are _YOU_ doing in here? You're supposed to be think up what happens next!**

 **Muse: Oh really?**

 **Me:Yep, so get going!**

 **Muse: Whatever.**

 **So yes, things are coming. Please review, it makes me happy. :)**

 **Oh, the song that Thennil sings at the end is a modification of "Even Though You Are Gone". I can't remember the artist.**

 **Thanks, and enjoy.**

 **Robin**


	11. Chapter 10

"Grief never ends but it changes it's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, but the price we pay for love." -Unknown

Returning to Imladris was a silent affair. All the siblings were dealing with the fact that they would never see their mother again until they felt the call of the sea. They would often wander the halls, eyes hollow of any feeling as they passed their mother's many haunts before her capture. They all avoided one another, trying to reason away what had happened, saying that is had all just been an awful dream that they just needed to wake up from. Arwen became silent, her laughter dried up, and she slipped into shadows. The twins were in open denial that their mother, their naneth had left them. They seldomly ate anything, they were shocked beyond what they could believe. But life slowly went on, though their hearts ached.

Hurrying from her room, Thennil raced through the halls, a piece of parchment held within her hand. A smile lit her face and her eyes sparkled with joy as she stumbled into the sitting room, laughter beginning to bubble out of her as she charged towards the chair by the window.

"Naneth! Aravorn's- her throat tightened as she surveyed the empty chair, which was covered in a small amount of dust. A wave of nausea washed over her as she remembered that her mother was not there to join in her excitement any longer. She began to tremble, her legs shaking as she slowly slid to the floor, crossing her arms over the seat of the chair, tears leaking out. There would be no tinkling laughter or tight hugs from those arms that she longed to be encompassed with. There would be no kind words and gentle encouragement, no shouts of surprise when she would sneak up on her mother.

The weight within her chest seemed to grow heavier with each passing day that she stayed within her home. She had not visited Aragost and his children, missing the many achievements of his oldest son, Aravorn, and how his daughter's had matured and learned things that she had wanted to teach them. She had not felt that she could abandon her family, not when the grief was so fresh within all of their minds. Her father had become more shut off, more serious than he had been. The laughter that had filled their halls had lessened, the faces of their people had grown more sorrowful as they grieved for their Lady. Her sister had become sober, the smile that had once reached her eyes now was a distant memory. She felt the change most within her brothers, and it was not a sadness, it was a loud, hot, seething anger. Their eyes flashed when they sparred, filled with malice and hate. Whenever a group of orcs passed anywhere close to the Hidden Valley they would disappear. When she entered the training field, and would begin to spar with them she could feel the anger radiate off them like a wave of immense hate. And she knew that they blamed her. That it was her fault.

Looking out the window that the chair faced, she watched the clouds roll across the sky as her heart clenched. The walls seemed to close in on her then. Her breath became ragged as she saw all of the memories that she had held on to flash before her eyes, when she had first learned to read, how she had learned to ride, when she had scraped her knee on the stones and her mother had bandaged it up, the soothing words that she had spoken when she felt down, the joy that had flashed in her mother's eyes when she watched her do something that she loved, and the pride that shown when she accomplished something that she had set her heart on. How she would take her in her arms when she was a frightened elfling when the thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed like a spear across the sky. The long hours spent learning how to sew, and the laughter that had filled the room when she had finished her first doll dress. The times that they would cuddle for long hours, reading stories from days gone by, or watching the rain fall softly onto the garden below her window. Taking walks down by the river, and talking about everything that had happened that week. Her heart physically ached as she remembered the soft hands that had been run through her hair on numerous occasions when she had cried because she had felt responsible for the deaths of those she had trained after a battle or skirmish, the words of love that were whispered into her ear when she needed them most. Every hall that she walked down brought forth memories that would leave her shaking, tears threatening to burst forth. The pain that she felt when she saw the way that her family went on was unbearable when she could have done something to prevent it. It was breaking her, tearing down the walls that she had built up to keep her emotions from showing.

There were so many things that she wished that she could have said and done. So many words of thanks that she wished that she had taken the opportunity to speak. How could the Valar let something like this happen to her mother? She had never done anything that was remotely evil, her mother had been so pure, so full of light that it had been blinding at times. She had held the wisdom of her people and had used it to council others and to show them how to better themselves. Why had she been forced to endure what she had, only to be snatched away because she could no longer deal with the suffering that she felt in her heart?

Why? Why? Why? the question pounded through her mind, slowly pulling her apart. If only she had gone when her mother invited her to join her before she left from Lothlorien. If only she had listened to her gut feeling. If only she had left three days sooner. If only, if only, if only.

It plagued her. She would wake in the middle of the night, having dreamed that her mother was being captured all over again. She would be almost within reach of snatching her away from the enemy when she would get pulled back, struck down, or trampled upon. Or in other dreams she would be tied in the same little dirty pit that her mother had spent days in being forced to watch as the orcs beat her, drawing blood from her perfectly pale features. The dreams haunted her, popping up at the most impromptu times, causing her to withdraw after the flash back ended, horrified.

Rising from the floor she dusted off the chair, running her fingers lovingly over the ornate carving that had went into it. The tears had stopped some time ago as she had thought over everything, tortured herself with the memories that were just that, memories. The would no longer be solid, touchable, real things that could happen with her mother in the future. Looking out over the valley, she realized that her home was no longer a safe place where she could hide from the darkness and pain that surrounded her whenever she wanted. It had become the place that reminded her of what she could not protect, not when she was not out among the people's of middle earth. Her haven had become her prison, a place where pain was sewn into every memory, and regret that could never be satisfied.

Her sight allowed her to see passed the ridge, and there she knew lay her path, one that she knew would not be pleasant, but were she could keep others from feeling the pain that she had experienced. She could protect those who could not protect themselves. Perhaps then her heart could heal, could learn to beat again with the same love that it had once beat with.

She whiped the sweat from her brow as she crept up upon the enemy along side King Brego and his warriors, against the Easterlings. There had been many small groups of them that had attacked and raided his people, causing many to lose their lives. She had come to know his forefather, Eorl, before his death in 2545 at the hands of the easterlings that they now fought with. Having promised that she would watch over his son and look in on those that came after him on his death bed, she found her knowledge of war and battle being put to use. Though she did not excel in strategy, she was extremely capable to execute the plans once they were drawn out.

Slipping over the edge of a hill like a cat stalking it's prey, she watched as the group of easterlings that had sacked a village at the edge of the realm. Their look outs were too occupied with the argument that had broken out in the middle of the camp. From what she could hear, someone had snitched some loot that wasn't theirs to snitch. She smirked as she crept closer through the tall grass, steading the horn that hung at her hip. After a brief moment listening for a sparrows call, she leapt to her feet and raised the horn to her lips, and blew with all of her might. It echoed over the flatlands as an army of footmen from the south jumped from where they crouched, while from the north and west riders galloped into the fray. The easterlings shouted in surprise and grabbing their weapons began to defend themselves. They were not outnumber, but evenly matched with the kings men.

Running down from her perch atop the hill, she let out a fierce battle cry before joining her friends in battle. Everything was in chaos, men shouting, sword clashing, horses neighing and rearing up on their legs to defend their riders. Her own blade flashed like lightning, her shield strapped to her back. Within the craze of battle it was hard to keep track of those that she had gotten to know personally, but when she heard the strangled cry, which she knew to be Ethelwine, she ran through the fray towards him. Pulling her shield from it's place on her back, she slipped her arm through the straps and began to battle her way through the enemy that surrounded her friend. Kicking out at the bodies that blocked her, she ducked a man's swing, plunging her sword into his abdomen and twisting, pushing his body out of her path, she landed next to her friend.

"I thought that we agreed that you would not get into any trouble," she commented, looking over his wounds, which were not many. Only one worried her as it looked to be very deep.

"Yeah, that didn't work out so well when I was thrown among the footmen," he grumbled, blocking a dagger that was meant for his leg.

"What am I going to do with you?" She teased, lifting her shield to protect him from an attack that he hadn't seen coming his way.

"Tie me to my chair and lock the door?"

"I'm not entirely sure that would work, my friend," she grunted, as their attacker, a tan skinned easterling with numerous tattoos threw himself heavily upon her shield.

With a swift movement she had disarmed the man, and one of the other's among her companions had finished him off. Sheathing her sword, she used her free hand to yank Ethelwine to his feet, seeing as he had tripped over one of the slain that littered the ground. Rolling her eyes she brought him to lean against her should, and withdrew her dirk, ready to do some close fighting once he was set.

"I thought you liked to use your sword?" his eyebrows raised in question as he steadied himself.

"Swords are for keeping your distance, I like a challenge," she said, handing him her shield.

"Don't you need this?" He panicked seeing her so open to the access of an enemies blade.

"Nah, you need it more than I do, I'll get it back after we're done," she said seriously, knowing that he would take the hint that she wanted him to hand the shield back to her personally.

"I'll see you then!" he shouted as he focused on the tanned warrior that had made him his target.

She nodded, though he didn't see it.

"And so, Helmbrid took an arrow to the eye. Though he was in immense pain, he ripped the arrow from his eye, tossed it to the side, and continued on to victory, so ended the battle, where he became known as a great warrior, and later a great lord to his people," Thennil finished, watching all the fascinated faces before her filled with delight.

"Another! Another!" the children cried, gathering closer, nearly sitting on top of her as they clambered for more stories.

"And not a battle story," one of the older girls, around seven or eight, called out from the back row, "Tell us one about love!"

"Yes! Tell us a story!" the other girls yammered eagerly, eyes filled with a hunger that can only be seen among the young.

"Tell us one that is from your people, Trewrun, please, one about elves," a little girl called Winfled asked, her light almost white blonde hair falling into her face.

Shaking her head at the nick-name that the children and even some of the adults had started to call her, she contemplated her vast array of stories, "I don't know, they are not like those that you have among your people, little ones, they are like poems, songs."

"Then sing us on, or tell us the poem!" They pleaded, eyes growing large and folding their hands in a begging motion.

"Perhaps I can think of one," she sighed, pretending to have a hard time choosing.

"Anything will do!"

A poem popped up into her head, one that would have to be translated into westron, and it might be a little hard to understand, but they would enjoy it. It had been one of her favorite as a youngling, even though the ending was quite sad.

Settling back into her chair and picking up one of the smallest children, she pulled them into her lap. She smoothed the child's tunic, then ruffled their hair, "Once, a long time ago there was a lady named Isobel, who fell in love with a warrior, and this is her story:

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day,

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward..."

"A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

 _The Lady of Shalott._

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

The Lady of Shallot.'

And so ended the story of Lady Isobel, whose curse was to fall entirely in love with a warrior who would not return it. And so she died of a broken heart, fading away." She finished the story, seeing tears in the eye of many of the girls, and some of the boys, though they hid it well.

"That was so sad," Eliza, a child of eight, sighed whipping a tear from her eye,"Why did she have to die? Couldn't she have found someone else to love?"

"Nay, little one, once an elf falls in love, they cannot stop the feeling the wells up in them, it is permanent, even if the other party does not share their sentiment," she stated sadly.

"Have you fell in love, Trewrun?" Winfield asked, now curious.

"Nay, I have never fell in love." _And I hope that I never do, it is too painful._

"Perhaps you will fall in love with Ethelwine, you spend so much time together when you are not with the king," one of the boys, a relation of Ethelwine's muttered under his breath thinking that she could not hear him.

"I don't love Ethelwine that way, Hubert, I love him as a friend would," she told him sternly.

He jumped, eyes wide in fear, unaware that he could be heard. Blushing guiltily, he crept off into the shadows knowing that the time for bed was growing near. She smiled at his retreating back, heart beating a little louder, a little more sure of the love that she felt for this people. They were very near to her heart, these people of the horse. So alive, so willing to give, full of laughter and joy that she had missed in her own home. Perhaps she would find her full healing here, among this people who were so willing to love, even if their lives were but a blink in her life as an elf. She would treasure the time that she had with them, counting herself lucky to have known such noble a people as they.

One of the many sayings that she had learned from the Rohrrim was that grief was like an ocean, even though few of them had seen it, and that it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All a person had to do was learn to swim in it. Perhaps she was learning to swim in her ocean of grief, even if it did take her a century to learn.


	12. Chapter 11

**Thank you all for the reviews, they are really encouraging! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope to get another one out by the weekend, but who knows the muse is in control!**

 **Robin**

"If something feels off, it is." -Unknown

 **T. A. 2767 Fall**

Standing before the massive gate of Erebor, Thennil could not help being in awe of the mighty structure that the dwarves had carven from the stone. It was breathtaking, though not in the elegant and ethril beauty like her home in Imladris or her grandmother's realm of Lothlorien, it was a brutal, blunt, square beauty. Nothing about it was elegant, it was all hard corners and smooth planes. It reminded her of the fortresses of men that she had dwelt among in her time with the Rhorrim and the Dunedain. Beautiful, yet simple. The great dwarven statues that stood guarding the gates looked to be made of a green stone unlike anything that she had ever seen. And she had seen many things.

Looking upon the gates and there might brought her mind back to the reason that she had traveled all this way. It had been a dream, one that had reacured night after night for nearly a year. It plagued her mind, these gates, but they were not as they were now. No it lay within the mountain, what her dream showed her. The dream had started in the spring, of the year before, and she had thought nothing of it because it was just that, a dream. When it had become a nightly occurrence, she had begun to take it more seriously, but was loathed to do anything because of the prejudices that had been instilled within her by her people.

In her dream she had seen the gold growing beneath the shadow of the mountain, deep within it's halls. It had radiated evil, and seemed to strike out in a crazed emotion when things around it moved. She had slipped through the gates, traveled down many flights of stairs and across many walkways, practically taking a tour of the kingdom in her decent into the darkness that rose up to greet her. Then there was a flash of bright light and she stood within the heart of the mountain, gazing over the hoard of gold that was piled up in heaps across the floor. Being an elf, she had not felt a pull to the shiny metal, her people leaned more towards jems that resembled their beloved stars, bright white. She could feel a heaviness, like a thunder cloud, over the vast room. Slowly, she had witnessed a darkness creep out of the doorways, washing over the gold and leaving it dirtied, so that it no longer sparkled when torchlight hit it. Laughter had begun to echo around her, causing her to twist and turn, seeking out the voice that bounced around her. The laughter had been crazy, reminding her of the few men that she had witness loose their minds after a brutal battle, not being able to cope with the reality around them. She shivered, feeling the insanity slip into her own mind as she continued to walk among the gold. Out of no where a short stock form dressed in rich silken garments appear, counting the gold pieces around him. Though she had never seen the king of Erebor, she had heard accounts of his features, so she knew that it was him that she looked upon. His eyes seemed glazed over, and even when she tried to approach him, he acted as if she did not exist. Reaching out, she touched his shoulder.

It had been like lightning traveling up her arm, and the first time she had dreamt it she had awoken, clutching her chest as the pain subsided. A great evil had blinded her, causing her to stumble. Gasping, she blinked, shocked that so much evil could be held in so small a person. Thror's eyes flared with a fire, one that seemed to engulf his very soul, dark and dangerous. Anger rushed across his hard features and he had swung at her, his heavy fist connecting with her pale cheek. Struggling to breath after the impact, she raised her hand to ward off the next blow, but found herself standing in front of the gates, upon a ridge overlooking the river that flowed from the gates.

In that moment the peaceful atmosphere had changed, and when she blinked next, the pleasant view that she had seen moments before had changed to a devastating thing. The gates were broken, the green of the foliage had been whipped out, replaced with a dark smokey black. Flames reached up and claimed the trees that grew along the mountain side, turning she could hear the branches moaning and cracking as the fire ate away at the pine trees. Bursting forth from within the dwarves halls came it's people, covered in ash and soot, crying as they ran. They carried nothing with them, only concerned for their safety. From deep within the mountain she heard the deep throaty roar that she had only heard stories about, the bellow of a great worm. Her blood turned to ice in her veins, and she felt as if she had bee frozen to the ground as she heard the screams of the dying people before her. In her minds eye she watched the blood pool in the gates, the bodies of the slain piled up, burnt to a crisp by the heat of the dragon. Doom was upon the dwarves.

Shaking herself from what had become her memories, she pulled up a hood, and began the track across the plain to the gates that she had seen nightly. The ground was littered with stones, but once she had made it to the road it was smooth going. Tucking her plated hair into the back of her hood, she touched the hilt of her sword to be sure that it was there. Her heart beat quicken in her chest, knowing that the news that she brought would not in any way please the king, and she just might end up in the dungeons.

She knew that she had been watched as she made her way to the mountain fortress, the many eyes of the dwarven soldiers watching her like hawks from far above on their ramparts. It would have unnerved a lesser person.

She had not gotten even within a hundred yards of the entrance when a voice boomed over the plain.

"Who goes there? State your business!"

The Warrior looked down at her as she raised her head, though even doing that he would not be able to see her face because of her hood.

"My name is my own, and so is my business, Master Dwarf, and I would be pleased if you would leave it at that!" she called back, voice strong.

"You're disregard for authority irks me, Ranger," the tattooed dwarf growled, taking in her clothes and the gate in which she walked.

"I answer to no man or dwarf, even if they are as imposing and annoying as you seem to be," she threw back at him.

"I will not stand here and bandy words with a imbecile such as yourself, again, state your business."

Straightening her shoulders, she stood tall, glaring up at the dwarf with her blue eye, "I have a message for your king, and I wish to speak to him."

"You? Speak with the king? What realm have you come from, and who taught you your manners, young one?" He laughed, mocking her.

"It matters not what realm from which I hail, I have an urgent message for the king!" she stressed.

"We shall see if he will see you, boy," the dwarf chuckled, turning and yelling to someone behind him, "Open the Gate!"

The dwarf, whom she learned was called Dwalin, clapped her on the shoulder as she stood waiting for an audience with the king. They had spoken much, exchanging words back and forth jollily, and though she was not known to be a loud person among her people, she grew to enjoy her conversation. He apparently was the head of the guard, and liked to harass those that entered their kingdom, making a joke out of it later when he told the stories about the men who shook in their boots when he taunted him. She had chuckled at many of the stories that he shared. She quite liked the merry dwarf, forgetting her past prejudices that she had held.

"I hope that your audience goes favorable with the king," he whispered, "He has been in a rather fickle mood as of late, and is easily angered."

"Thank you for your advice, my friend, but I fear that the news I bring will not brighten his mood," she murmured.

"How shall I announce you, since you have given me no name to go by," he asked, seeing that she would be next.

"You may announce me as the ranger, Eclipse." She said, looking over the hall and up to the throne whereupon Thror sat. To his right stood his son, Thrain, and on his left, Thorin II, named after his forefather. She looked deeper into the eyes of the king, sensing an underlying madness that was withheld by a few fraying threads. She hoped that she would not be the one that would break those threads, knowing that his sanity was only just holding on.

Dwalin nodded, and walked across the stone walkway, bowing before his king. Thror gestured for him to rise, and he stood, glancing quickly at the young prince, who looked to be around his age, and waited for his king.

"What brings you to the throne room, Dwalin? Is there a problem on the ramparts?" The kings deep voice resonated through the open hall.

"Nay, there is no disruption on the ramparts, My Leige, only a visitor with a message," he replied, beckoning her to come forward.

"And who might you be?" the king asked, leaning forward on his throne, resting his elbow on his knee and setting his chin upon his fisted hand, and observed her. She could feel his calculating eyes take in her strange appearance. She was clothed in the garbs of a ranger, brown, green, and black, and yet she did not walk and stand quite like a man would.

"He is called Eclipse, a ranger." Dwaine supplied, before bowing again and retreating to the entrance to the room.

"So, your name is Eclipse. A strange name, even for a ranger," the king said, pulling at his adorned beard in contemplation, still looking her over, noticing the hood the hid the face of the man he smirked, "Come, take off your hood, surly you would not begrudge us a look at your face?"

She stiffened, wanting to have avoided this situation as much as possible. Reaching a gloved hand up to her hood, she pulled it back, letting it fall to lay upon her shoulders. The eyes of the dwarves widened in shock.

"You are a woman?!" Thrain questioned, leaping forward.

"Aye, but not one to be trifled with," she said, hand trailing to her sword without thinking, she was grateful for the bandana that she had tied around her head that morning that hid her ears.

"What man would allow his daughter to take up such a life as this?" the young prince asked, shock and yet fascinated at the same time.

"I answer to no man, I chose my own path, or rather it chose me," she smiled, but it dropped from her face as she remembered what she had to say.

The group was flabbergasted, including a gasp from Dwalin who stood at the entrance.

"I bring evil tidings to your door, My Lord," she spoke, her voice taking on an ominous tone.

"What evil tidings could you bring? We are at peace, safe here within our mountain," Thrain asked.

"It may not be at this very moment, but doom is upon you," she started, eyes starting to glaze over, "I saw mountains of gold, piled as high as the roof, and a great darkness had settled over the mountain. Evil, crazed laughter echoed through these halls, bringing a chill to my bones. There where whispers in the shadows, tempting whispers. Then I saw the mountain blackened with smoke, trees blazing, and the sound of a rushing wind."

She had turned to look around the mountain, looking down over the side of the walkway at the people far below her. Whirling back around, she stared deep into the eyes of the king, "A sickness lays upon your mountain, Thror, one I fear you cannot fix alone. It is a gold sickness. It is consuming you. Fight it Thror, lest your kingdom fall to ruin. Your wealth grows to great, and it will attract unwanted visitors."

"This is treason!" Cried the king, launching hisself out of his chair, the archenstone shining down from above him, "You know nothing, woman!"

"Doom is upon you, your kingdom will crash and burn with dragon fire. Your people will be like lambs to a slaughter, their blood will paint the walls of Erebor red. You must resist the temptation of the gold, it is your undoing!" she pleaded, snapping out of the trance that she had seemed to fall into.

"Leave us!" Thror thundered, eyes blazing with a bright angry fire. His fists were shaking uncontrollable, and his jaw clenched. "You shall never enter these halls again, not till the end of the world!"

"So be it, but heed my warning, Thror, time is running out, and the fate of your people rests in you hands," she stated, drawing her hood up and turning from them. She did not need to see the looks of hatred that followed her out the door. No one showed her out, she slipped by them, unseen, as a shadow fades when light it brought into a room.

Upon the ridge, she turned and looked over the peaceful valley that spread out before her, burning it into her memory.

 **T.A. 2770**

She had waited, knowing that the dragon would come to lay them low soon. She had dwelled for a time in the city of Dale with it's bountiful markets that were known far and wide, even by her own people. It was full of peace and prosperity, filled to the bring with happy people living their lives, never knowing what was to become of them. It lay mere miles from the entrance of Erebor, it's towers raised to the sky. The children played with their paper kites, laughing and safe within their care-free world that their people had created.

The young prince had visited her, asking her questions, and finding out her identity. He had been shocked, and angered that she had kept her race from him, and had held a grudge with her. But she had broken through his walls and shown him that she had truly not meant to deceive him. He had dropped hints that his grandfather had changed, and that his greed had grown. But he would not completely believe what she had spoken that day in the hall, believing that his grandfather would get well. His pride would someday be his downfall.

Doom came in a rushing, hurricane like wind, battering the trees upon the mountain and the surrounding land. She had taken refuge in a cave that she had discovered within the first few months, stocking it with dried foods. The wind was dry and hot, searing like an iron, swirling around the mountain like a mighty storm. In the distance, from her perch atop a tall rocky hill she saw the dot on the horizon, red and bright. Her keen ears caught the sounds of bells going off in Dale and the shouts of alarm from the dwarves.

Fire bathed the mountain in an unnatural light, eating everything that is was spewed upon. She could hear the branches moaning in the wind as the flames hungrily consumed them, cracking. The dragons roar echoed over the land, striking fear even into her own heart. Turning from the mountain, the dragon descended upon Dale, and burned it's towers. The screams of the people were loud enough for her to hear. She wept as she listened, knowing that she could not take on the dragon alone, and that this was the consequence for the actions of a greedy king. But the city of men was nothing to the dragon, it's death was in the cloth and wine and other merchandise that would be burned by his fire, the only thing that he cared about was gold within the mountain. His desire was was a dark and fierce desire, for he coveted it above all else.

He battered the gate, his claws and body tearing at the stones, breaking it little by little. His fire spewed from his mouth, blackening the stones as he crashed through into the dwarves stronghold, intent on taking it as his own. He trampled the dwarves, claws slashing right and left, blood splattering the walls as he descended deeper into the mountain, eyes alight with greed.

The dwarves fled from their home, leaving everything to the dragon.

She had known that Thranduil would see the coming of the dragon, and was unsurprised to see the king and his army standing on a ridge watching the survivors trickle out of their desolate home. She had moved quickly from her hiding place, bags full of herbs that would help heal the wounded. She slipped among the dwarves, picking up a lost child as she went, offering aid where she could.

She could see the dwarf prince, Thorin, along with his people screaming at the elvish army, begging them for help. But she knew that Thranduil would not offer them aid, he had seen dragon fire before, and would not risk the lives of his people over those he considered no more than dirt beneath his feet. For that she despised him, they were all equal in the eyes of the Valar.

She knew that the dwarves would remember this day, the mountain smoking beneath a bright moon, the trees blazing like torches, the screams of agony from their people. They had seen the dragon fire in the sky, their home turned to ash, and they would never forgive, and never forget the injustices that the elves rained upon them that day. Or at least all of them but one, and that one came like a shadow, slipping in unseen, and helping them through their times of need.


	13. Chapter 12

**This chapter is not quite what the muse wanted it to be, but I'll brush it up later. So, without further ado, Chapter 12!**

The years after the dragon were brutal. The Dwarves wandered Arda looking for a place to call home. Some went to the Iron hills, others took up living among the men, becoming blacksmiths, carpenters, stone masons, or architects.

Thennil wandered among them, seeing the grief that they felt for their lost home and dead family members. It reminded her much of her own loss and the grief that she still felt. Many times she would find herself hunting to provide for the many hungry mouths that were among those that followed Thror south. It broke her heart to see so many children without their parents, all alone in the world.

Winter had come upon them, unkind and cold. Though the dwarves were a hearty people, not overly prone to the cold, but they did not have the warm clothes that they were accustom to. Using the knowledge that she had, she had gone away to trade with the men in their villages, using what coin that she kept on her person. It was barily enough to get what was needed. With the consent of some of the dwarves who trusted her because of what she had done, giving even when it seemed that she had nothing to give, she took a small group and led them to one of the Dunedain elvish settlements. They were welcomed with open arms by the people there, homes were quickly built to house them, and when spring came, it was if they had always lived there. Though the relationship with the elves that dwelled among the Dunedain was a bit strained, relationships began to blossom.

It was on one of the beautiful mornings a few years after she had led the group of dwarves to the Dunedain settlement that she returned to the village, eager to see how her friends fared. She was immensely pleased to see many new huts had been added, and buildings that looked to be shops where the dwarves could continue their work. There were many more children than she remembered, and not all of them looked distinctly dwarfish, or human. As she made her way along the main path that led through the village she noticed that the relationship between the elves and dwarves, though not perfect, was a least bearable. The strain that could be seen when she left the village was not as evident, and it made her hope that perhaps the differences between the two races might be alleviated within the near future. Wandering down the lanes, she came across the marketplace, filled to the brim with people.

The noise was almost deafening, as if the whole town were there. It was music to her ears, for the voices were filled with joy and from different places she could hear the boisterous laughter of the dwarves mixed amongst the soft tinkling giggles of the human women. Scattered in a heater-scelter patter were stalls filled with different products; her ears picked up the ringing of hammers on metal and the scraping of a knife against wood. The scent of fresh herbs met her nostrils, and she breathed deeply, closing her eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of life around her. Everywhere people were chatting, bargaining over items, asking questions about products, gossiping, and making jokes. Her heart was filled with satisfaction, knowing that she had helped lighten the grief that had possessed their hearts at the loss of their home and people. Her efforts had not been in vain.

Glancing around, she slipped like a shadow among the people bunched up together, taking care to avoid stepping on the many children the seemed to pop up out of thin air. She ducked behind a stall, and noticed through the crowd, a single hut situated farther away from all the others along the tree line. Instantly she was curious, why would someone build their home so far away from everyone else, unless they wanted to keep to themselves? Creeping through the throng of people, she snuck behind the last hut and peered at it. She could see that the building was kept in immaculate condition, and the architecture. The architecture reminded her of her home in Imladris, leaves and vines carved into the wood of the doorpost, curling around to follow the wall of the house, bending and weaving. The windows were tall and rounded, and a breeze made the curtains sway, the fine fabric looked to be woven by one of her people, but she couldn't be sure.

Her pondering was suddenly interrupted by a loud giggle and squeal followed by the sound of pattering feet. Turning she watched a small child toddle to the door, her short hair had braids strung through it swirling around her short form. The girl dashed up the front steps just as the door opened and a short man, no a dwarf burst out, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. Their laughter echoed off of the huts nearest to her, causing a small smile to bloom on her face. The duo turned, beckoning someone to join them, all smiles.

To say that she was shocked, was an understatement. She was paralyzed in amazement at what she saw. Shaking herself, she took another gander at the woman before her, sure that she was see wrong. She wasn't a woman, at least not from the race of men. She was an elf, and not just an elf from the village, she was one of the elves that Thennil had known somewhat intimately before she had left Imladris. They had been friends, almost like sword-sisters, before she had left on her self-exile.

"Miluiel," she gasped, leaning hard against the hut, finding it hard to believe her eyes, "What-?"

The she-elf, spun around, her pale silver hair flying out in all directions, shock evident on her pale features. "Thennil?"

"When did you come to Norwich?"

"Nearly six years ago; what are you doing here?" Miluiel cried, dropping her basket of goods to the ground and rushing to engulf her friend in a tight hug.

Pulling back, Thennil shook her head in wonder, "I was checking up on the group I brought here seven years ago, I haven't been back since."

"I never knew, Tilrim never told me about you," came the reply as the elf withdrew, looking reproachfully at the dwarf that stood holding the child in his arms.

Thennil turned to looked at the dwarf; her eyes falling to the small child in his arms. Skimming the child's features, she noticed many that belonged to her friend, the long neck, pale skin, and delicate nose, but there were other's like the child hair and eyes that she knew did not belong to her friends family. Looking at the dwarf, whom she had gotten to know a little about on the journey to Norwich, she realized that the child resembled him as well. Her eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply at the discovery. She had never thought that their peoples were comparable in this way.

"So, I see that you're married now, when did that happen?" she asked, curiosity peaked.

"Well, I guess it all started when I came to visit the settlement." Miluiel started, unsure of herself, eyes flickering to her husband.

He chuckled at her, eyes sparkling with mischief, "And she found a band of dwarves living among her people. We started out hating each other, until she threw a piece of dough in my face, that's when I fell in love with her."

Miluiel blushed, "I don't know if it happened quite like that, I think it really made an appearance when we had a feast and he started to sing," she sighed.

"It didn't take long for me to woo her, and before anyone knew it we were wed and this one," he nuzzled his small daughter's neck, causing her to giggle from the tickling sensation,"Was on the way."

"And so here we are."

Looking over her friends, she raised her eyebrow,"And yet you live apart from those around you?"

"There you go with the eyebrow, just like your father," Miluiel teased nerviously.

"It makes people uncomfortable, seeing us together, and it angered some of each of our people," Tilrim said, setting his squirming daughter down so that she could run around.

"Well, that's their problem; what do you call her?" She asked, nodding at the small girl as she plopped down in the grass, plucking a flower and twirling in her small chubby hands.

The two parents smiled as they gazed down at their precious daughter,"Mariam Eadlin Idril."

"It's a long name for such a small girl," she concluded, crouching down to greet the child.

" _Suilad_ , little one," she greeted, holding her hand over her heart.

The child looked up at her curiously, before reaching out with her chubby hand and touching the almost nonexistent line that crossed over her blind eye, "Hello, _Tar Orelil_."

Thennil gasped, along with the child's parents, before recovering,"You are quite a perceptive little thing, aren't you?"

The child looked up at her with her emerald colored eyes and giggled, pulling on one of the curls that had sprung loose from the she-elf's braids, her small mind not registering what had just happened. Taking the child's offered hand, she let the young girl pull her into the house, eager to show the new lady her toys.

During the time that she had journeyed after bringing the group to Norwich, she had returned to the main band of dwarves that still followed Thror through the south, looking for work. Her relationship with the king was rocky at best, but he did sometimes take the advice that she gave him from time to time. His son was less trustful, watching her like she was a wild dog taken in and trained, but that would turn on them at any moment. After traveling with the dwarves for some time, the young prince Thorin, had come and spoken to her, curious about the world that he had not seen, though not overly curious about her people. He was the first of his line that started to break the wall that had been build between them since she had brought her warning. He had eventually worked up his courage to ask her to train him in some of the moves that she had executed during a warg attack that they had suffered as they wandered. She had been honored, and thankful that he was not so filled with hatred towards her as his elders were. He had proven to be a great pupil, having started training when he was a small lad. They had enjoyed their sparring matches to the extreme, and attracted a lot of attention from the dwarves around them. In the evenings they would all gather together close to one of the fires and she would teach him a new move, and then they would go over the paces that she set for him. He was a very talented youth, and after practice and experience he would become a formidable warrior.

As time passed, she watched little Mariam grow into a beautiful young girl. She would visit the family, bringing gifts and the like. The child had taken to calling her "Auntie", which had stirred the longings that she had subdued for so long. And so she lavished her affection on the child, showering her love without bounds. They grew quite close, and as she grew, Little Mariam began to pretend to be like her Auntie, a warrior. It made Thennil's heart ache.

It was not many years afterwards that Thror called his people to battle. Each male left their homes that they had created in the twenty some years that had passed between the dragons coming and the time that Thror decided that he would take back the ancient dwarves fortress of Moria. It angered Thennil that he thought that he would be able to take the fortress again, his people were scattered, and had found a peace, earning their keep by the sweat of their brow. She knew that this battle would not end well for the dwarves.

"I cannot believe that your grandfather thinks that he will be able to take Moria," she shook her head, sitting near the young prince as they prepared for battle. Deep in her mind she knew that somewhere among the army of dwarves was Miluiel's husband, and she feared for his life.

"He is the king, we will follow him anywhere," he replied quick to defend his grandfather.

"Even kings have to take responsibility, and think logically. This plan is madness! I have fought in many battles and travelled this world for longer than your grandfather has been alive, I know of what I speak," she reminded him.

"That may be so, but it was once our home, as seeing as a dragon inhabits what used to be our home," he spat on the ground at the mention of the dragon," we must retake it. It belongs to our people."

"I still don't think that it is a good idea, it's more of a suicide mission," she mumbled to herself.

"You won't change our minds, so stop trying to," he growled, eyes flashing with suppressed anger.

She chucked darkly,"Change the mind of a dwarf? I would have better results trying to convince a human that the sky is purple!"

He rolled his eyes, continuing to strap on his armor and adjust his chainmail. On the outside he looked to be so sure that they would be able to take back Moria, but beneath his bravado she could see a sliver of fear that he could not banish. She knew that he still dreamed of the mountain, and the death that he had seen there. It haunted him. Some nights she would hear him jump awake, the fire reflected in his weary eyes.

"So, just hypothetically, what would you rate our chances of taking back Moria?" He asked, pensive, "Be honest."

She rubbed her hand across her face, pushing at her temples where a headache had decided to descend,"I seriously doubt it's even a one."

He narrowed his eyes,"Why?"

"Call it intuition," she whispered, sensing his growing anger, and the pride that was at it's root as she looked out over the rocky terrain. She heard him pause, having grabbed a wet stone to sharpen his sword with. Slowly he lifted his eyes, taking in her erect form, traveling over her scars, up to the pointed ears that stuck out from her warrior braids. He nearly retched at the sight, he was so disgusted with her people, most of all Thranduil and his woodland elves, the bastard! But he had to remind himself that she had come to their aid, she had brought hope, she had gone out of her way to accuse supplies and warm clothes for a desolate people. She had shown them how to live on, even in the face of their destruction, showing them places where they would be safe, securing them a future, even if it was among men. But his bitterness would not be quenched, his hatred for those of her race would not abate. And yet he wondered, why hd she sacrificed so much of her time for them, why was it so important that she watch over them?

"Why?"

She jumped, having forgotten that he had been there, drifting into deep thought as she checked herself over. "Why what?"

"Why are you doing this? Helping us, showing us places where we would be safe, sacrificing for us?" he shot at her in rapid succession, a thought popped into his head and he looked at her with growing suspicion,"Do you want something from us?"

She sighed, a haunted look coming over her face, "I am doing what I can to ease your suffering, just like I would want someone to do if it was me."

"So? That's not a good enough reason."

"And whoever not? Why does it matter? I want to help you!"

"I want to know if you're just going to pull the wool over our eyes, make us believe that your helping us, then leave and watch us suffer," he growled, anger simmering close to a boil.

Her eyes flashed, his sudden mistrust grating on her nerves. She stood and turned away from him, seething inside. Her shoulders tensed, fists clenching and unclenching, breathing heavily through her nose, she physically shook with frustration. Why must everyone need an answer?

"Tell me why!" he threatened, concern growing at her actions.

Whirling about, she stared down at him, "You really think that I would betray you now? After all that I've done? And you have the gumption to ask 'why'?"

She seemed to tower over him as an inner light began to shine brighter than her normal glow. Her eyes blazed, like lightning flashing across a dark stormy sky. Her hair seemed to be stirred up by an unseen wind, swirling about her like the waves crashing upon the sea shore, wild and untamed. She was truly a terrifying sigh.

"I am doing this because I know that grief is not easy, not when you have to bear it alone. I know loss, I have seen my people slaughtered before my very eyes! Any these were not some old experienced elves, these were but youths, just out of childhood. I was the one forced to bring the news to their families. We are immortal, death is almost a foreign subject to us, because we do not die! The guilt and grief that I carry would have caused a lesser elf to fade.

"Do you want to know why? Why I do not live at home among my people?" she asked, emotions of pain and great sorrow washing over her, "Because I failed. I failed to rescue someone very dear to me. And I could not bear to let someone else go through that loss, it causes me pain just thinking about it!"

After finishing her tirade, she paused, closing her eyes and inhaling the cool air. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, so stirred was she. Her emotions raged deep within her, bubbling forth onto her passive face, the age showing in her ageless eyes. her Her breathing began to calm, and she shrank back down to her normal height, the excess light that had exhibited dimmed down to a shadow. He could see that her eyes were glassy, as if she would cry at any moment. He could seen the guilt and self-loathing in her eyes, and felt shame.

"Perhaps I misjudged you," he whispered, she snapped her gaze to his face, "You carry a great burden, one that many would falter under. But what you do is honorable, working to spare other's as you have, and I thank you."

"I am amazed that you think so," she began rebraiding her hair, making sure that it was tight, "Some of my people think that it is a rash thing to devote my time to when the lives of those I watch over are like a day in the life of an elf, but I do not see it that way. All I had to decide was how I would spend the time that has been given to me for the betterment of those around me."

"And we thank you," he said, clapping a hand to her shoulder,"Deeply."

"Perhaps someday our people's will not despise each other," she said with a mischievous smile, her demeanor changing like the flip of a coin.

 **Please comment! Review! Whatever!**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Robin**


	14. Chapter 13

**"If a battle cannot be won, don't fight it." - Sun Tzu**

 **"Everyone wants to be the sun to light up someone's life, but why not be the moon, to brighten in the darkest hour?" - Unknown**

Sweating profusely, she ducked the swing of another Orc. She was so tired, and they hadn't even made it close to the gates. The enemy had arrived in full force first, and they had been severely outnumbered. Even with her boundless amount of energy that she possessed, she felt weary. These orcs and goblins were not as skilled as some that she had fought with in the past, but the sheer number of them was straining. She was not even close to the heavy fighting, she was at the edges, protecting the flank of the dwarfish army.

Beheading her current opponent, she took a breather as she glanced around. She could see that many of the dwarves were holding their own, and turning she gasped, her superior eyesight catching the commander of the orc army. She had known him, even fought against him once or twice when she had been out scouting, but she found herself even more disgusted and horrified by him now. In his hands dripping in blood, he held the head of Thror. All the light seemed to be sucked out of her as she saw the orc toss the severed head, bouncing it off of the stones, and rolling to a stop at Thorin's feet.

It was as if all the blood was frozen in her veins, and her body refused to move. She and the dwarf king had never entirely seen eye to eye, and he had held a grudge over the warning that she had brought him. But seeing him slaughtered made her wish, just a little, that she could have reconciled with the dwarf. Guilt began to creep into her heart, whispering to her, telling her that she could have done more, that she could have tried harder, been more of a help. Why was she not more competent? Why? Why? Why?

 _Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!_ came the dwarfish battle cry, startling her out of her thoughts. She knew that voice, knew that intonation. Swiveling, her eyes searched the field around her, no longer concerned for the sons of Durin, as someone more important called. In a moment her eyes found the form of her friend, Tilrim.

Surrounded by no less than six orcs, she could see that he was in dire need of help. Rushing through the battle, she yelled her own battle cry, her voice echoing over the plain like a bell. She flashed by the warriors of both sides, her sight becoming tunneled, zooming in on the face of her friend. She could see that he was cutting down his foes, but they would just be replaced by more, he was tiring. She let out a gut wrenching scream as she saw a goblin bring his jagged weapon down on the unprotected back of her friend. It plunged deep into his back, she could hear the squelch and noise of the blade ripping his skin. His agonized scream would have made even the toughest of warriors blood run cold, it was long and low, filled with heartache.

Her anger flared, and the edges of her sight became red. All of the emotions that she had learned to mask burst forth, her reason left her. She slashed through the orcs with her sword like a hot knife through butter, her body acting of it's own accord as she flew to Tilrim. Her mind was clouded, but even in the fog she could see the orcs moving in to make the kill. Her heart pounded in her chest as she cut through the contingent of orcs and goblins, her screams full of anguish. They fell beneath her blade in rapid succession, their twisted faces, filled with agony, but she cared not. Her anger was like a a raging bull, unpredictable.

It was only after she had slain all of the orcs within a fifteen foot radios of her friend that her anger slowed and she was able to breath easily. Her body turned towards the fallen form of her friend. Her legs shook with each step they took towards the bloodied body, before a new determination bloomed within her chest and she sprinted to him. Dropping to her knees she made to move him so that she could reach his back, but his quivering hand grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Why do you stop me? I can save you!" she cried, face filled with torment.

"You cannot save me, ushmar," he rasped, his breathing deep and fast, almost like he was panting.

"I can!" she insisted, moving to move him again.

"Nay, lushr, not this time," his breathing became shallower, and slower.

"Miluiel is waiting for your return," she argued, eyes frantically scanning him over for other wounds as her hands went to the pouch of healing herbs she kept on her person.

"She can survive this," he chocked, fluid filling his lungs slowly even as his life blood drained from his battered body. A tear slipped down his face, and she knew that he knew what would likely happen to his beloved wife.

"She needs you desperately, she will fade," she wept.

"No, she has my little Mariam, my little princess," he whispered. And Tilrim, a man who was the most devoted husband and loving father, who had stood up under the censuring gazes of his people for the choice of his life mate, began to shudder, breath slowing.

"No. NO. NO!" she screamed, whispering words of healing as she pressed one of his wounds to stop the bleeding.

"You have done so much for my people," his voice burned with agony,"You have shielded them, and taught us that not all elves are evil, word twisting bastards- he clutched at her bloodied hand, his own trembling- will you watch over my darlings, my banno? Take them to your home."

"I-I-

"Promise me, ushmar!"

"I promise," she sobbed.

He closed his eyes, his head resting back against the dead body of an orc. She shuddered, and wiped the tears from her face. How could this be happening? Every time she got close to someone they ended up dying. Ever time.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," she gasped, holding his hand.

"You cannot protect everyone, Thennil, so don't blame yourself."

"I have to try, I've gotten close to so many people, and eventually they die, when I could have saved them."

"Letting go means that you have come to the realization that some people are part of your history, but not apart of your destiny," his voice had gotten softer, and he had had to pause to take a breath before continuing.

"It doesn't mean that I have to like it," she whispered, looking up over the rocks, seeing that the battle had slowly ebbed to and end. Pulling her eyes back to the dwarf in front of her she chocked. He wasn't breathing. Raising her voice, she cried, the sound of her sorrow carrying over the breeze, haunting and ethereal. Soon it was not only her voice that wept on the breeze, more joined as the count of dead grew and grew. They had won the battle, but the cost had been high.

Approaching the hut, she stopped. Her eyes trailed over the ornate door, the rounded windows, and the beautiful carvings that caressed the weathered wood. From within the house she could hear the sounds of silvery laughter and high giggles. Her heart clenched, knowing that she had to deliver her news. Lightly she walked over the wet grass, making nary a noise. After a moments hesitation she raised her hand hand knocked three times upon the door, plastering the cheeriest look she could on her face.

From within she heard the scrambling of feet, a chair scrapping across the floor, and then the door was wrenched open. The bright face of her foster niece beamed up at her as the child launched herself into the arms of her favorite, and only, aunt.

"Aunty Thennil, you're home! I thought that you were with addad?" she exclaimed, leaping away to look behind her aunt. She danced around the room, jumping up and down.

She was silent. Looking up, she caught Miluiel's eyes. Stepping deeper into the house, she took a seat before the fire, exhausted. Mariam bounced around her before realizing that something was wrong. Slowly, she stopped jumping around and came to crouch before her aunt. She reached out and picked up on of her aunts hands, and peered up into her face. Concern bloom in her young heart, she could sense a great sorrow deep in her aunts fea.

"Something troubles you," she stated, fear growing.

Thennil ignored the statement,"I bring news."

"Did we win?" the child asked, her face filled with curiosity.

"Aye, we won-she paused and clenched her hands-but not without great losses." she flashed a mournful looked at Miluiel.

The elleth whimpered, clutching at her heart in physical pain, face twisted in agony. Thennil vaulted to her feet, catching her friend as she collapsed. Tears began to stream down Miluiel's face, and her eyes took on a hollowed look. Her cries grew, and she shook violently, her heart slowly breaking, cracking, tearing. She had hoped to have many more years before her husband left her for the halls of his people. Her emotions were so great, so woebegone that Thennil felt as if she would fade away right in her very arms. She whispered encouraging words, stroking the strands of hair that spilled over her back, her fea reaching out and wrapping the other elf in a comforting blanket.

Mariam stood watching the scene with a look of puzzlement upon her confused face. Why was her Amad crying?

"What's going on?" her voice felt small as she spoke.

Thennil turned and looked down at the confused child, wishing to go to her, but trapped by her mother's steadfast grip on her tunic. Opening her arms, she beckoned the child.

"Your Addad is not coming home, he is gone," she told the little one, emotion seeping into her soft voice.

"No." the child shook her head, eyes tearing up,"No! He is going to walk through the door and pick me up any second!"

Miluiel, noticing her daughter's distress, ceased whimpering, and spoke in a teary voice, "It is true, penneth, I felt it in my heart. He has been gone for some time."

Tears welled up in the big blue eyes, and she stumbled into her mother and aunts arms. This could not be happening. Running to the door, she yanked it open from where her aunt had shut it moments ago. Without looking back she rushed into the dark of the night, ignoring the cries of distress from the two from behind her. Deep into the woods she ran, desperate to get away from everyone. Her small heart cracked, and she began to weep openly, searching for that strand of gold in her mind that she identified with her father's spirit. It was gone, broken, shattered. Dropping to her knees beneath the stars she screamed, yelled, and asked the Ilúvatar and Mahal, why? Her mind could not fathom the whole of her situation. Her father was not going to return, he was gone forever. The only chance that she would have of meeting him again would be in the halls of the dead. Deep within her she vowed that she would never hold anyone so dear as she had her father. No one could ever take his place, make her love them more than she had loved him. He had been her confident, her best friend, someone who didn't send her censured and dirty looks for her heritage, he loved her for what and who she was. She doubted that there was anyone, any male, that could look upon her like her father had; in awe.

Around her began to glow a golden light, bubbling up like a fountain, though she did not see it because of her closed eyes and tears. It was a healing barrier, soothing her misery, calming her. This was how her Aunt came upon her almost a half of an hour later, the light had dimmed and shrunk down till it seemed to hover around the girls tender heart, beating slowly in her chest.

Slowly, she heard her begin to sing a song, one that she recognized Tilrim singing to his daughter each night. The child's voice rang out in the high and clear, echoing into the night:

The moon is risen, beaming,  
The golden stars are gleaming  
So brightly in the skies;  
The hushed, black woods are dreaming,  
The mists, like phantoms seeming,  
From meadows magically rise.

How still the world reposes,  
While twilight round it closes,  
So peaceful and so fair!  
A quiet room for sleeping,  
Into oblivion steeping  
The day's distress and sober care.

Look at the moon so lonely!  
One half is shining only,  
Yet she is round and bright;  
Thus oft we laugh unknowing  
At things that are not showing,  
That still are hidden from our sight.

We, with our proud endeavor,  
Are poor vain sinners ever,  
There's little that we know.  
Frail cobwebs we are spinning,  
Our goal we are not winning,  
But straying farther as we go.

Mahal, make us see Thy glory,  
Distrust things transitory,  
Delight in nothing vain!  
Mahal, here on earth stand by us,  
To make us glad and pious,  
And artless children once again!

Grant that, without much grieving,  
This world we may be leaving  
In gentle death at last.  
And then do not forsake us,  
But into heaven take us,  
Lord Mahal, oh, hold us fast!

Lie down, my friends, reposing,  
Your eyes in Mahal's name closing.  
How cold the night-wind blew!  
Oh Mahal, Thine anger keeping,  
Now grant us peaceful sleeping,  
And our sick neighbor too.

 **(This is called Evening Song, which originally was a German evening song/Lullaby you can find it on .com if you want to listen to the melody)**

Slipping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around the shaking child, holding her close. Through the night she held the girl, whispering words of love, even though she was weary. Slowly, the child drifted off to sleep in her arms as the sun dawned across the horizon. Cradling the slumbering child in her arms, she stood, hair blowing in the breeze, and trudged towards the hut. She could feel the turmoil radiating from the girl, a sorrow that would hang over her head if she did not learn to let go. Shaking herself, she realized that Tilrim's words about learning to let go would not just be for herself, but for his daughter. And how would Mariam learn to let go of those she lost if she did not have an example. Softly she treaded up the path to the door, seeing it open to reveal Miluiel.

She smiled sadly, and moved out of the way so that Thennil could set the girl down on her bed in the corner of her parents bedroom. Sliding her beneath the covers, she drew them up to the girls chin and smoothed the wrinkles out of the blanket. After a second of gazing down upon the dear, she leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead.

"Have sweet dreams, princess," she whispered.

Turning around, she looked at her friend. She sighed brokenly, already it looked as if Miluiel would fade. She was pale, and there was a life-less look in her eyes, which had once been filled with a joyful sparkle. Her smile was forced, and her attitude was only positive because she had not know if her daughter would awake. Strolling into the common room of the house, they sat in their respective places, ignoring the large polished oak armchair that sat close to the fire. It crackled, the flames licking at the dry wood and reaching up the chimney begging for more to eat. A heavy silence settled over the room, each woman delving deep into her personal thoughts. As if their moods couldn't get any worse, the sky had darkened and large fat raindrops began to fall from the sky. It was as if the Valar were weeping with them.

Finally, Miluiel looked up, her eyes red from the quiet weeping that she had been doing,"What am I to do?"

Thennil could see the dispart creeping into her friends fea, and she raced her own around her, a warm coppery glow encasing and fighting the dread that seeped through the seams. "You will go on living, just like Tilrim wanted."

"But how?" the broken woman asked, clutching the arms of her chair desperately,"Ever since he let to join his king, we have been ignored. The dwarves do not like me, so they avoid me, and our own people speak with me, but there is nothing but mere politeness in their speech. They look down on me for loving my husband, my one. Where can I go where people will not look down on myself and my own daughter, my light?"

"Have you forgotten the home you once knew?" Thennil could not believe that her friend had ruled out the possibility of returning to her home, "Elrond is always welcoming those in need into his home, but you needn't worry about, it was your birth place, no one will despise you for it. You would merely be returning from whence you came."

Miluiel hesitated,"How will I know that they will be accepting? That they will love Mariam like I do? That they will treat her well?"

"They will come to see her like you and I do in time, given the chance."

Rising, the elleth looked around, running her hand over the table, mantle, and hovering over the carved easy chair for a moment, all that had been made by her husband's bare hands. Before she moved any further, another tear slipped from her reddened eyes, landing on the backrest with an almost inaudible _plop._ She brought her arms around and hugged her thin body tightly, her silvery hair fell to cover her face.

Her voice was soft,"How can I leave this place? He put so much work into it, building it from the ground up. How can I abandon what he made for me? For us?"

"He is not here, Miluiel, you carry him in your heart. These things will not last, but your love for him will, he lives on in you," she whispered, gathering her friend in her arms, and rubbing soothing circles on her tense shoulders.

"But they are examples of his love, how can I leave them? Give them up? It would be like betraying what he was to me, these were his courting gifts to me."

"It is not betrayal, it is learning to let go," she whispered.

"And how would you know?" the other woman spun around, anger flashing like lightning across her perfect face as she pointed an accusing finger in her friends face. "You have never found your one, fallen in love, had a child, you don't know what it's like to loose someone! And I seriously doubt that you ever will, with they way you move on from each person that you know that dies. How can you be so heartless?"

The words cut straight through the many walls and barriers that she had built up through her long life, guarding her tender heart. A tear threatened to fall, but she banished it by blinking hard, sucking in a strangled breath, "Perhaps it is because I have lost so many people that I fear falling in love, getting to close. But i think that I am able to move on because I realize that if I hold on, and don't let go, that I'll be dragged down too, and what use would I be if that happened? Even now I wonder why? Why didn't I fall? Why haven't I fallen? There were so many times that I wanted to fall, to be slain, but it never happened. Apparently I still have some form of use, so I have been left alive. But for what? I have to go through loosing so many people, but why? I do not know, but, perhaps someday I will. Today is not that day, and it might not be tomorrow either, but I have found that, even if it is only a small flame, a spark, there is still hope in the world. And I will ever strive to keep it alive, even if I must die myself."

Miluiel's anger cracked, and shattered as she fell into her chair, clinging onto it for dear life. Kneeling before her, Thennil took her hands and looked up into the silvery grey eyes, darkened with grief. "Do not give up hope yet, mellonin, the sun still rises, and there is battle to be fought. How can you win if you already disppair? Take heart, you will prevail."

"I-I believe you, but I cannot see the light..."

"Stop looking for it, it's inside of you, just waiting for you to light it, to believe in it."

With a shaky breath, Miluiel looked up into the sapphire eyes, "We will return."

 **So this chapter took a lot of brain power, thanks to the muse being sick with an infection...her wisdom teeth aren't too wise, who knew?**

 **I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please leave a review, I'd really appreciate it!**

 **Robin**


	15. Chapter 14

**Just as a preface, my dwarves live longer than the ones that Tolkien thought up. So everything that he originally thought up belongs to him and Peter Jackson who made the movies, but the ages and some of the traditions are my own which I have created bits and pieces of other peoples interpretations. So, please don't harp on me if you come across something that is not exactly accurate to what Tolkien depicted.**

 **T.A. 2845**

The bright golden light sparkled and snapped around the hand that seemed to shine from. It moved like a mist, and yet it had a body, being able to take the forms of different things. It flickered like a flame, eating up the energy that it was given like water to the dry ground. It seemed to have an energy all it's own, bright, protective, healing.

"So, you just have to believe in it, pull it from deep within yourself, and then it's just there," the musical voice directed, the golden light twisting and turning around their hand and up their arm.

"I've been able to do some of that, but do you know what you personally are able to do with this light? This power?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Mariam said, the golden light receding back into her hand like it had never been there, "But I think there is the possibility that is could do a lot of healing. It seems to be connected to the life around us, nature, and all living things."

"Quite fascinating, I'll have to give it a try sometime," Thennil chuckled, looking down at the shorter girl, who was still practically a child compared to her mother's people. She had given her all the knowledge she could about this gift, and found that she herself possessed something similar, though it was not as strong as it was in Mariam.

"I don't think that you should use it to often, or a lot, it could be draining, and that would be bad, especially if you are in the middle of a battle," the child speculated, turning aside to look at one of the many flowers that grew among the gardens of Imladris.

She had grown since they had come to the hidden valley, blooming in ways that even her mother had not known were possible. She had grown taller, taller than her father, which had surprised her mother, though not quite as tall as an elf was. Rather she was close to the height of a shorter woman among the race of man or a very, very tall dwarf. She had progressed when it came to her mother's language, having only spoken the Common tongue, Kuzdul with her father, and a few words of Sindarin when she felt inclined. Here in the valley her studies had increased, and she took on many languages, even learning some of the words that the _yrch_ used, though Thennil tried to prevent that as much as possible. She had also convinced the Twins to teach her archery, fencing, and hand to hand combat as she put it, all within the matter of a few years. Now, she was one of the most accomplished fighters of Imladris, even though she was considered a child. She had never been out on a patrol, no matter how much she begged Glorfindel and Thennil, her mother had stated that she would only be allowed once she had succeeded in beating both of the Twin and one or two of the other guards that she hung around. She had yet to best the Twins, but had taken down two of her friends among the young warriors, using very unorthodox means, but doing it none the less. She had become very good at improvising. She had indeed grown, if her father had been around, he would not have hesitated to keep her locked up in her room. She had turned into quite the beautiful young woman.

She had taken after her mother with her golden hair, looking quite like a fountain of the metal poured down her thin body like a fountain. It's texture was silky smooth, but with dream like waves that fell down over her shoulders easily. Her emerald green eyes sparked with mischief and joy, much like her father's once had. She was pale like her mother, though took after her father in regards to working up a heathy glow of red on her cheeks when she worked hard at something. She had become skilled with her hands, not just welding weapons, but weaving cloth and sewing beautiful clothes. She was known for her unconventional style, her tunics being layered and falling almost to mid-calf, but being loose enough to enable her to move swiftly when she was on the training field. Her companions called her _Pen_ _lhûg,_ or little dragon, so fiery was her spirit when they egged her on. She was quite entertaining, and many times the ellyns decided to gather at the field even after they were done to see the sparring that happened when Elladan or Elrohir, and even Thennil would sometimes participate in with her, just for _fun._

Mariam was not the only one that had grow when she came to the hidden valley. Thennil had grown in character, wisdom, and courage. She had been immensely nervous about meeting her siblings and family again. She had avoided them for nearly three hundred years, and the whole time she had felt that it was her fault that their mother had left, sailing across the sea. She had blamed herself over and over again, telling herself that if she had just been sooner, quicker, more astute, and had followed her instincts that she would have been able to save her.

The day that they had arrived back in Imladris she had almost been more afraid of what people, and her family, would say about her than Miluiel had been about the comments she would get about her short marriage. The whole way down the path she had been fidgeting internally, her mind flicking from one thought to the next faster than the speed of light. She knew that her horse, Arion, could sense her unease, and in turn that made him antsy. He placed along after the other horses, his feet lifting high like a show horse. They had sent word before to let her father know of their arrival, but they had been so close that they hadn't gotten a return note, causing her to worry all the more. Trotting down the path and across the bridge, they passed beneath a waterfall before entering the courtyard. They had been met by a silent crowd, all waiting with bated breath for the arrival of the lost ones, as they had been called in their first few years. She had initially scoffed at that name, for none of them had ever been really lose, just wandering, learning more about their world. Miluiel and Mariam had dismounted and were engulfed in a group of their distant relations, second and third cousins. She had sat atop her steed, hesitantly lifting her eyes to those of her family, fearing the judgement and hatred that she felt that she would see in their eyes. Though their faces remained stoic, she could seen the sorrow, joy, grief, and relief swirl in their grey eyes, the most president of their emotions though was happiness. She had been utterly puzzled, even for all her years of wisdom, that they could be so forgiving. She had dismounted slowly from Arion, and made her way up the steps to stop before her dark haired father. All the emotions that she had been feeling, all the regret, had nearly vanished when she saw the pride and joy that she could feel from her father. His eyes had taken on a glassy look as she had traversed the steps to the top, his prodigal daughter finally finding it in herself to return to him.

"I have come home, if it pleases you for me to stay," she had whispered, glancing up at him then down to the stones repeatedly.

"I would have it no other way," he had replied, voice filled with emotion.

"My old rooms are still available? If not I'm sure that Miluiel and Mariam would mind me bunking with them, I've done it-

"Your rooms have been ready and waiting for you, _nín randir,"_ he had said, sweeping his hand toward the archway, "We have waited a long time for your return, my _iell_."

She had nodded, and looking to her friends, went and helped them find the place that they would call home. She had regained some of her courage that day. Once she had retired to her quarters, she had been accosted by her two younger brothers, a maraud of questions pelted upon her after they had squeezed the life out of her with their tight embraces. The wanted to know everything that had happened to her, who she had met, but mostly, why she had left. Elladan and Elrohir were ashamed when she admitted that she had felt like everyone, them inperticular, blamed her for what happened to their mother. They had begged her forgiveness for not expressing themselves when they had had the chance, knowing that it could have saved her all the grief and heartache that she had gone through in the years they had been separated from one another.

"So you met the dwarf king?" they had asked, amazed that she would associate herself with the dirty thing.

"I dreamed of his kingdoms destruction by the dragon, of course I met King Thror, though he was not so keen on meeting me after I brought him my message."

"What did he do?"

"Told me that I was never to set foot within his fortress until the day he died, he threatened to kill me if I came within two-hundred yards of the front gate as I was exiting his throne room," she had said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"And did you ever?"

"Aye, many times, though his guards never saw me, I was always careful to dress appropriately." They snickered.

"You saw him come, didn't you?" Ellandan had asked.

"Aye, he was great and terrible, his stomach glowed yellow when the fire built within him and it was like the strongest flame we have ever made multiplied a thousand times. It was hot, hotter than any summer day here or in Lorien; many of the people and dwarves that were not even close to the dragon had burns from the great heat, it was an awful sight to behold."

"Why did you not flee? You could have gone to Mirkwood to seek refuge from the dragon's fire?"

"And leave the dwarves to their fate? Nay, I learned long ago that foresight comes with a great responsibility, it was a small price to pay to be able to protect them, to bring them comfort in their time of need."

"But King Thranduil didn't help, why should you?"

She had nearly spat on the ground at the mention of the elvenkings name, "He would not subject his people to the dragon fire, and so left the dwarves to perish in darkness and doom. I was give gifts, why should I keep them to use only for my own people when so many other's would benefit from them? No, I brought them the warning, I was not about to leave them to die when I was responsible."

"You are better than us, sister."

"You will learn compassion, it just takes time," she had told them, standing as she heard the small footsteps of her young friend tripping down the hall.

Not long after, she found Arwen sitting among the white climbing roses at the far end of their mother's garden, pretending to read a large book about the First Age. She had been able to tell that her sister was not reading the words in front of her, her eyes had taken on a distant look, and her mind was far away. She had settled down on her sister's right side, her skirts rustling softly as they brushed against the bench. Slowly she had taken the book from her sisters limp hands, taking them in her own, and drawing the silvery grey eyes to her own. No word had to be spoken, everything that needed to be said was read in the other's eyes. They each knew how much the parting from their mother had done to each other, and the guilt on Thennil's part Arwen had let her know was unfounded. She was never the one to blame, not even if some of the elves though that it was behind closed doors. She offered encouragement in the form of a tight embrace, tears falling from both of their eyes as all the pent up emotions began to trickle then spout out from deep in their hearts.

Arwen had guessed that it was misconceived guilt that had driven her older sister away from their small family. She had questioned her brothers about their actions, digging deep to find the root of the problem that everyone else seemed to have glazed over. Once she had found the reason that her sister had fled, she had tried to send messages to her through those that traveled through Imladris, hoping to reach her somehow. None of them ever made it to her with all of her wandering. Arwen had been filled with grief, mourning the time that had been snatched away from her with her sister, knowing that it could never be replaced. As the years had passed, she had become resigned to the fact that her sister might never return; that they had driven her away from her refuge. She had taken to haunting her sisters rooms, cleaning them like she would be back any day, her love and hope felt deeper than any feeling a human could have. Her sister was the closest thing connecting her to her mother aside from her father, and it pained her to know that they were separated from one another.

Their father had lost the mischievous look that had sparked in his eyes when his wife had been with him, he had drawn back into himself, slowly, but not fully, healing the broken threads of the bond with his wife. He had taken less and less interest in the training field, unlike before where he would sometimes spar with one or all three of his children while his wife watched from the sidelines, cheering. Many of the places that Celebrian had spent her time he avoided, but as time went by the pain became more of a numb reminder that she was not with him. He had known that Thennil would leave him at some point after her mother's leave-taking, and it hurt him deeply at how soon it was after their return that she disappear from his house, it was as if she had never lived among them.

He never said it in so many words, but when she returned, he had felt that a part of his wife had returned with her to him. Her personality at times along with some of her characteristics reminded him of his departed wife. Many times he could see her laughing when his daughter let joy bubble forth from her heart, her voice, and even the way she walked reminded him of Celebrian. She brought back many memories, and the pain began to recede from him, though it never disappeared entirely.

Many days would find her sitting in one of the window seats of his study, reading one of the many books that he kept there. After spending so much time traveling, fighting, and watching over the dwarves she had found herself thirsty for the knowledge that could be found in the musty tombs of the library at home. And after seen the golden light that surrounded her young friend, she became more curious than ever. She searched the most dusty tombs, reading about the powers that her ancestors had had when they lived in Aman, and how they had used them. She had sent letter after letter to her grandmother, filled to the brim with questions about the powers. Steadily she had learned about that golden glow, and what it could be used for. She had gone for a few years and spent time under her grandmothers instruction and teaching, sucking up all the information like a sponge to bring back and tell Mariam.

When she had learned as much as she could, she had taken to teaching the girl the head knowledge about her gift. Each day they had set aside time to go over the information that she had collected, and tried applying it to things. Sometimes these escapades turned into disasters, which was why they had taken it into the outdoors by the request of her father and Miluiel, fearing that they would bring the house down with one of their experimentations. The duo had merely laughed at them, and fled the words of caution from the two.

Today they had attempted to make one of the wilting flowers grow, and had succeeded spectacularly. The flower, though tended by the best gardeners among their people, refused to reach up towards the light, it's leaves and blooms drooping, nearly touching the ground. They had started to sing, what sounded close to a nonsense song, but in reality it was the song that came from deep within them, pulling the energy from them and transferring it to the flower in a gold and copper glow from each of their hands. Mariam seemed to be able to summon it from herself with more ease than her teacher, it was almost natural. Thennil assumed that it was harder for herself because it was a forgotten power among her people, even her father could not totally understand it. Slowly, before their eyes it had straightened, it's blooms reaching up towards the sun, the wilted leaves uncurling and sucking in the warm light. It had been extremely fascinating to watch, and have a hand in.

"So, when do you think I can go on patrol with Elladan and Elrohir?" the girl asked, bouncing back from looking at the flowers.

"Not quite yet."

"I've beaten many of the guards, and almost bested Elrohir the other day, don't you think I'm ready?"

"No."

"Why? I've got experience, and I'm doing well in my studies, what else is there to learn?"

"You aren't old enough yet, give it a few years."

"You were only a few years older than I am when you went on your first patrol. Why do I need to wait longer, I'm practically an adult by Adar's standards."

Thennil chuckled as she threw an arm around her prodigal child, "You may be almost as old as I was, but I was only able to go because the world was less threatening than it is today."

"I can take care of myself, no one would have to worry about me, I could do it."

"It's not just about being able to take care of yourself or what age you are, it has a lot to do with maturity. Elrohir was able to go on his first patrol before Elladan because he was more mature, while Elladan was still quite reckless."

"So, I can be mature."

"Yes, key words _can be_ , but you aren't always mature. It has to be a consistent thing."

"The twins aren't consistently mature, they play pranks on people all the time!" the girl argued.

"While that may be, in general they are more mature when they make decisions that have consequences."

"So when will I be able to go on patrol?"

"Giver or take twenty years."

"What?! I'll be almost one hundred! That's so old!" she whined.

"What am I then, rotting in my grave? I'm nearly three thousand years old." She teased the girl, tickling her. Mariam giggled loudly, as the long fingers found her most ticklish spots. Squirming, she wiggled out from the tight embrace that Thennil had held her in.

"You're an elf though, I'm just a half breed," they sobered.

"You are nothing of the sort! Who told you that?" Thennil demanded, grabbing the girl by the shoulders.

"Nobody..."

"Someone had to have said it for you to repeat it. Now, tell me who called you that?"

"One of the ladies down in the markets..." came the hesitant answer.

"Why did you not tell your mother or I? Or Lord Elrond? We could have set them straight!"

"I didn't want to cause trouble," the girl mumbled, looking at the ground, "But aren't I one?"

"You wouldn't have caused any trouble. And no, you are not one."

"Then what am I? I'm not an elf, and I'm not a dwarf, so what am I?"

Drawing the girl into her arms, she led her to a seat beneath one of the great oaks that grew along the garden edges. She waited a few second for her to adjust her skirts before taking her hands and looking deep into the innocent eyes that begged for answers.

"You are Mariam. Daughter of Miluiel of Imladris and Tilrim of Erebor. Swordswoman. Healer. Student. Teacher. Hope and Joy. You are an amazing young lady, and never let anyone tell you different or bring you down with demeaning words. You come from strong bloodlines on both of your parents sides. You were a princess in your father's eyes," she paused, reliving the memories that rushed through her mind.

"Did you know that was what he called you before he died? His little Princess, and you mother was his queen. Nothing could sway his feelings and great love for you." Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a small pouch. She opened the top and poured the contents into the white palm of her hand.

"What are these?" the girl asked, peering closer.

"These are family beads, made by your father. I haven't found the right time to give them to you, but perhaps I was just waiting for this moment," she said reaching forward and cupping the girl face.

"What do they signify?"

"This one- she picked up a small chunky bead with leaves etched into it with the smallest emerald embeded into the silver and gold-is a family bead. It shows what clan you are from and what your father's craft was. It would be put into your hair from a strand in front of your left ear." she looked at the girl, asking with her eyes if she might braid her hair. Mariam nodded, sitting so that she was facing her elder. It did not take Thennil long to remember what and how Tilrim's family braid had looked like, she had a very good memory. After finishing the braid, she took the bead and unclasped it before snapping it on to the chunk of hair.

That was how they spent the rest of the afternoon. Each bead Thennil would explain the design, the reason for it, and the placement that it had in Mariam's hair. It wasn't long before the girl had five braids strewn throughout her locks. Going all from memory, Thennil had told her the detailed stories that went with each braid, and how each signified a different stage in her life. She explained that normally she would have worn a child bead, one that had nothing on it but a small jem, along with a youth's bead, which had the family sigil, or crest, on it. Her father would be the one to braid them into her hair, but as he was not here, and her mother had not spent much time learning about the bead traditions, she had taken on the responsibility. She also explained the beliefs of the dwarves regarding One's to the best of her ability, but her knowledge of what actually happened was spars. Overall, she explained that hair brushing and braiding was extremely important.

"So kind of how elves only let someone who is a close family member or a very, very good friend are allowed to touch another's hair purposely?"

"It is similar, but not quite the same. It is a massive offense to a dwarf if another touches another's hair, especially a females hair, on purpose or on accident without the other's consent."

"Oh. So don't touch anyone's hair if you can help it?"

"Pretty much, penneth."

Standing up from the bench, Mariam hurried over to one of the birdbaths that were scattered all over the garden, leaning forward to see herself in the water's reflection. She traced her fingers over the five beads that now hung in her hair, a proud smile gracing her features. After spending a few more moments admire herself, she turned around and rushed into her Aunts arms.

"Thank you so much," she whispered, hugging tightly.

"It was nothing, penneth."

"I want to be just like you when I get older." she stated, pulling back and gazing into her aunt's eyes.

"No, you grow up and be you, Mariam. Don't be like me, there is so much more out there than what I have experienced." She said, running her hand through the girls hair before the youngling ran off into the garden.

"Go find an adventure."

 **Please Review! And thanks to all of you who have reviewed, I really do appreciate it. See ya soon!**

 **Robin**


	16. Chapter 15

**T.A. 2859**

"So, how did it go?"

"It was really...boring?"

"I told you that patrols weren't that exciting."

"Yeah right, you told story after story about all the things that happened when you were out on patrol. It sounded super exciting!"

"Those were brief moments in longer periods of time, not everything was constantly interesting, or funny."

"Makes me wish something had actually happened. We didn't see anything! No orcs. No goblin. Not even a stray warg. There was nothing!" Mariam slumped onto her bed, groaning as she did so.

"I missed my bed though, I forgot how soft it was when were were sleeping out under the stars. The ground was so rocky, even when I thought that I had moved all the stones out of the way." she grumbled.

"You get used to it after a while," Thennil chuckled, eyes filled with amusement.

"Yeah, you never mentioned that. Or the fact that we would only eat Lembas! That was awful!"

"Again, you get used to if after a while."

"I'm sure."

Thennil leaned against the doorframe, watching the young woman strip off her armor, hanging it up on the hooks that lined the wall. She could hear her quiet groans as she was forced to move muscles that she had never known she had had, stretching them as she took care of her sword and numerous daggers. Her long hair had been braided back, her family braids interwoven through the strands. She rolled her sore shoulders, and stretched her arms above her head, popping a few vertebrae in her back as she pulled. Everything hurt, and her muscles were sore from sitting on her horse for long hours everyday. Why had she ever wanted to be apart of a patrol?

"I've prepared the bath for you, there's some oils that will help with those sore muscles of yours," she teased, ushering her adopted niece into the bathing room.

"Yeah, yeah, pick on me a little more. The other's probably aren't feeling a thing, being elves and all," Mariam teased back, untying her braid and using her fingers to separate the pieces, "The joys of being a dwarf!"

"You complain to much, you know that, right?"

"Whatever," Mariam muttered beneath her breath, fully knowing that her aunt could hear everything she said.

She began to strip down out of her dirty clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket that inhabited the corner of the bath. Upon entering the hot water, she let out a hiss as her muscles tensed, then relaxed It felt glorious, almost like she imagined heaven to be if there was one for her people. Settling in under the top of the water, she smiled tiredly.

"Where is Naneth? I didn't see her when I returned."

Thennil hesitated, knowing that she would have to address this cautiously. She finished pulling out a new pair of clothes for her niece, unfolding them so that the wrinkles would be smoothed out as the humidity from the hot water entered the air. Taking her time, she set everything up the way she wanted it, collecting her thoughts into a logical order.

Mariam sensed her trepidation, and instantly knew that something was wrong. "What is it?"

"Well, I don't really know how to tell you," she sighed, knowing that her next words might break the young woman.

"Tell me what?" Mariam's voice wavered as she rose out of the water.

Tears glistening in her eyes, Thennil turned to look at her young niece, emotions bubbling up underneath the surface. "She's fading, Mariam."

"No." Mariam shook her head, the shock freezing the other parts of her body as she collapsed back into the water. "No, she was fine when I left over a month ago, what could have changed?"

"She was holding on for you, penneth."

"Holding on? Couldn't she continue to do that? I need her!"

"She misses your father, Mariam, and her heart longs for him."

"But she's lasted this long, why not until I'm gone? I'm not ready to loose her, there's so much that I still need to learn from her, so much that she can still teach me." She was utterly shocked that her mother could think of leaving her.

"Not really. She taught you everything that would help you be able to function living as a lady. She taught you how to act, how to always be kind, and have courage. She raised you so that you would be comfortable leaving her, soaring like an eagle on your own, you were never hers to keep, but to teach you to soar on your own, to be your own person. And she's done that. You have the confidence and the maturity to strike out on your own. You're not a child any longer." Thennil tried to comfort her.

"But-

"Once upon a time you were a little girl, with big dreams of being a warrior that you promised yourself you'd make real one day. Don't disappoint yourself, or what your mother did to get you here." Thennil stated, glaring down at her niece.

The young woman gulped at the sternness of the gaze, and looked away.

"How much longer does she have?" she whispered, voice choked.

"A few weeks at the most."

"At the least?" she asked because she had to know.

"A week."

Mariam drew in a shaky breath, looking up at her aunt, eyes shining with new tears. "When can I see her?"

"As soon as you're done, if she's not sleeping."

She nodded, and hurried through the rest of her bathing routine with renewed rigor. She wasn't going to miss a single moment that she had left with her mother, given the chance. She barely remembered her father, flashes of a jolly red haired and bushy bearded dwarf flickered through her mind, glimpses of sitting in front of the fire, or out on the front step beneath the stars, his deep voice singing her to sleep. She wanted to burn every moment into her memory, praying that she wouldn't forget.

As Thennil watched mother and daughter together over those last few days, she saw the similarities to when her mother had left. Only she might be able to see her naneth again someday when she passed over the sea, whereas Mariam would never see her mother again. There were many moments that she had to turn away, reliving them last moments that she had with her mother, the subtle glances, full of emotion, that nearly broke her heart all over again. She watched her niece hang on to every word that left her mother's mouth like they were drops of water in a desert. It was like watching a tragedy happen over and over again on replay.

Walking slowly through the gardens, Mariam let her mother lean on her shoulder, weary from their short walk. She thought over the many years that she had spent with her mother. She remembered how strong her mother had been when questioned about her husband and the daughter that they had had together; how she had defended her from those who felt that she was a burden to their society. The nights she would run to her mother when a storm had rumbled over the valley, or when she would cuddle up with her before a fire and listen to her sing. Ever day was a precious memory that she would burn into her mind, every detail made crystal clear.

"Amad?"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"..."

"Ask your questions, your face betrays your puzzlement."

"Well-I guess-how-Blast it! I can't even get them out!" She grumbled, kicking at a stone in the walkway vehemently.

"Take your time," her mother chuckled good naturally, albeit a little tired.

"Why do you have to fade?" the question came out more as an accusation, her tone low and slightly angry.

Miluiel sighed, exhausted, "It really is not a simple answer, my dear."

"I don't need to have a simple answer, I just want to know."

They had come across a bench, and sitting down, her mother took up her rough hands. Her eyes surveyed the garden around them, seeming to draw strength from the trees and flowers. Her face, while ageless, held a heavy weight, and her eyes were dark with a deep grief. As she collected herself, she closed her eyes, breathing the fresh air in. Mariam couldn't believe that her mother was thousands of years old, she looked so young compared to the humans that she had seen, which weren't many. Her silvery gold hair shown in the evening sun, as if it was a light of it's own. Her pale skin was smooth and as soft as a babies, no blemish or wrinkle could be seen. If she had ever seen perfection in one of their people, it would have been her mother.

"I guess that you could say that we never belonged here, in Arda, we belonged in Aman. But we fled because of the things that we had done or that happened. There was a prophecy that was spoken over all the elves that did not repent from the Kinslaying in Aman by Mandos: Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Ea, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. **And those that endure in Middle-Earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after.**

"So, you've become weary of Arda, but don't you have the option to sail?" Mariam was still quite puzzled, none of this made a lot of sense.

"My body will not deteriorate like those of men, penneth, but grief, a weapon, and torture can make our spirit wane, insomuch as it leaving our bodies for the halls of Mandos."

"You still grieve for Adar." Mariam concluded, realization starting to occur.

"Yes, but it is a much deeper love than that of men or dwarves. We elves attach a part of our very being to the person we fall in love with and marry, and it is not easily broken. It is for this reason that I cannot leave Arda, we only love once, my love for him was fathomless. He cannot reside across the sea, so leaving these shores brings me no comfort, and yet I cannot bear to live here because of the memories that I hold and the dreams of what we might have had."

"So, you're giving up," the young woman growled, tearing her hands from the soft ones of her mother's.

"It might look like that, but I'm not really leaving you," Miluiel spoke gently, turning her daughter's hardened face towards her with her soft fingertips. Moving her hand down, she covered her daughter's heart, "I will always live on in here, this is where you can remember me."

"But I will not be able to hold you, touch you, ask you questions when I don't have answers!"

"Then you must learn to find them, or ask your Aunt, she will always be there for you."

"But-

"Hush, think not on these things, penneth, you will learn with time, but do not push yourself. Learn to enjoy life to it's fullest."

Mariam huddled closer to her mother, a tear leaking out of her eye. How could she come to grips with losing her mother? Her whole world was slipping through her fingers, and she could do nothing about it. It had taken her long enough to learn to live without her father, and she had had him for less time than with her mother now. His face was even now becoming less and less familiar, his eyes less alive. She couldn't bear for her mother's face to fade, the memories would not be enough to satisfy her aching heart.

The weeks passed slowly, and with each one Thennil could see her friend slip away little by little. The light was quietly leaving her, the natural glow that surrounded her dimming till it was nearly gone. Her energy had begun to deteriorate rapidly, causing her to have to stop and take frequent rests when she went for walks with her daughter and friends. Food had ceased to interest her, and she only ate it when she sat with friends. Her tall, strong frame became more willowy, her arms and legs began to look like twigs. Even for all of her bodies deterioration, she still seemed to hang on, watching over her daughter as she went through her exercises on the field, or mended a hole in her tunic. She found joy in the smallest of things, a butterfly, or a pair of birds singing outside her window, or her daughter laughing at a prank that the twins had pulled on a friend last week.

It did not take long for her to be confined to her room, long walks and conversations taking there toll on her body. She had been somewhat active, sewing over the last many months, but that had been when her daughter had not been present. Thennil had caught a glimpse of the garment that had been taking shape, and pride bloomed in her heart for what her friend strove to do. She had come upon Miluiel a few years past, her having just started the beginnings of the garment. At the time it had been but a piece of prussian blue fabric, but it had evolved from a simple looking thing into a magnificent gown.

The gown had a low scooping neckline, just enough to show off one's collarbone. The sleeves were long and flowing, as was the skirt. In addition to the blue, Miluiel had embroidered thousands upon thousand of silver and gold threads into the dress along the bottom third of the skirt, causing it to look like the wearer was walking among millions of stars. It sparkled when the light hit it, a ray of brilliant sun. The top of the dress was fit tightly, blooming out in graceful folds to the ground and ending in a long train behind it on the floor. It was magnificent, a true work of art like no other.

When she had seen her friend working on the dress, Thennil had wondered why she was making the monstrosity, knowing that neither she nor her daughter would likely have a chance to wear it. There were not many fancy parties or celebrations that would call for a dress so exquisite.

Miluiel had merely replied,"She might not need it now, or see a reason for it yet, but in time she will come to understand in time."

Thennil had just nodded her head, wondering when the reason for the thing would come.

Now, after many years of sewing and embroidering, the gown was nearly finished. Everything had been seen to, from the under clothing to be worn with it to the delicate slippers to the silver tiara. And with shaky hands, Miluiel stitched the last few yards of fabric together from her spot on the bed, the dress spread out before her. She had had to pause many times to rest, her hands quivering so much that she could not sew properly. Thennil had offered to stitch the last few yards, but her friend had declined, saying that she had to finish it with her own hand. After many long hours, it was completed, and Miluiel had her friend hang take it and hang it up so that the sun would hit it as the afternoon.

Reclining back into the numerous pillows that propped her up, Miluiel sighed tiredly. She had been hanging on so long, trying to finish what she had started, and now she could finally slip away. Closing her eyes, she let sleep claim her as Thennil went to snag her niece from a meeting, a feeling of foreboding coming over her. The young woman must have sensed the change in the air, because she met her aunt in the middle of the hall, a look of concern upon her face.

"What is it?"

"Come." was the only answer, yet it was filled with all the words and emotions left unsaid.

Hurrying down the hall, Mariam was followed by her aunt who swiftly jogged after her, barely making a sound. She slowed when she came to the hall that led to her mother's rooms, feet dragging on the ground. She could hear the soft, shallow breathing of her mother coupled with the breeze wafting through the open windows. Hesitantly, she pushed the door open, feeling almost guilty, like a child sneaking into a room to eavesdrop on their parents. It swung open with ease, revealing to her eyes a familiar room. Everything was placed strategically, organized, to be appealing to the eye, a rug and chair before the fireplace, one by the open widow with pale blue curtains swirling in the breeze, brushing the chair in its journey. Swiveling her head, her eyes came to rest on the form of her mother. She was shocked that the woman that had seemed bigger than life itself now looked to be as small as a child, her thin body lying limply upon the mattress.

Slipping to her knees before her, she reached out and grasped one of the pale hands that lay a top the silken coverlet. Bringing it close to her lips, she kissed it tenderly. Tears threatened her eyes, and she let out a muffled sob. She clung to her mother's hand, praying that she would wake up and everything would be as it was. But it was not to be.

Or at least not quite what she wanted it to be.

"Sing to me, my darling," a soft, breathy voice whispered, "Sing something for me."

"I don't know if I can," the tears had started, and her voice was choked. She knew that death wasn't kind, but elves weren't mortal, they weren't supposed to die. She had seen it snatch away her friends among the humans in the blink of an eye. She had fought so long and so hard to banish the thought of her mother dying, but as she had seen her mother slipping slowly away, she had begrudgingly come to accept that it was possible. She had ignored it though, pushing it to the back of her mind and living in the moment, but it hadn't been enough. She understood what had happening without having to think.

A song came to her mind, one that she had heard from among those of her previous home. Clearing her throat she began to sing, softly at first:

I won't just survive  
Oh, you will see me thrive  
Can't write my story  
I'm beyond the archetype"

Here her voice grew in volume, and it did not waver.

"I won't just conform  
No matter how you shake my core  
'Cause my roots—they run deep, oh

Oh, ye of so little faith  
Don't doubt it, don't doubt it  
Victory is in my veins  
I know it, I know it  
And I will not negotiate  
I'll fight it, I'll fight it  
I will transform"

She looked up at her mother's translucent face, seeing a small smile there, her breathing slow.

"When, when the fire's at my feet again  
And the vultures all start circling  
They're whispering, "You're out of time,"  
But still I rise

This is no mistake, no accident  
When you think the final nail is in  
Think again  
Don't be surprised  
I will still rise"

Here, her mother's hand gripped her tightly and she opened her glass eyes.

"Always fight, penneth, the future is full of surprises, don't be afraid of them."

This choked Mariam up again, and she had to pause in her song. Breathing heavily, she reached forward and brushed her fingertips against the jawline of her mother, nodding.

As she began to sing again, her mother's voice joined her, singing the harmony beautifully, though it almost could not be heard.

"I must stay conscious  
Through the madness and chaos  
So I call on my angels  
They say

Oh, ye of so little faith  
Don't doubt it, don't doubt it  
Victory is in your veins  
You know it, you know it  
And you will not negotiate  
Just fight it, just fight it  
And be transformed

'Cause when, when the fire's at my feet again  
And the vultures all start circling  
They're whispering, "You're out of time,"  
But still I rise

This is no mistake, no accident  
When you think the final nail is in  
Think again  
Don't be surprised  
I will still rise."

As the song faded across the breeze, and she opened her eyes, she let out a strangled sob. The hand that had held her own firmly only moments ago was now limp, the strength had slipped away with the words. She gripped her mother's listless body, she wept. As she wept, and the tears fell without care, she felt her mother's body become lighter and lighter. A soft golden glow replaced the bodily form that had once been her mother, and as she lifted up her eyes, it reached out and caressed her face. Then it seemed to disperse into a thousand particles, ebbing away into the air around her, gone.

Shuddering, she tried to make sense of what had happen. Her mother had turned into light, and then was gone.

"I have never seen something like that before, but I have heard stories of such things," her aunts voice echoed in the near empty room.

She didn't respond, her whole body numb in shock.

"I had hoped that she would be able to show something to you, but perhaps it is best it was left to me."

She didn't move, not wanting to know what her aunt wanted to show her.

"The least you could do is look at it, she spent hours on this. She hoped, no she knew, that someday you would have need of it, though for what I'm not really sure," her aunt admonished, and she heard a door open.

Standing from the bed, like a dancer beginning an interact dance, she turned and looked through the door, emotionless. Her feet slowly moved forward, knowing what to do more than she herself did. They took her to the door, where she stopped, fascinated and confused at the same time by what hung from a metal dress form and spilled across the floor. Yards upon yards of cloth rippled and hung from the form, like living water falling into a star filled sky. Her mind began to run, faster and faster, question after question until she turned, eyebrows scrunched down angrily over her emerald eyes.

"Why?"

Her aunt shook her head, "She never told me, or not specifically, what it was for, but that you would find out in time."

"I can't even dream of wearing that thing; what would I wear it to?"

"Something," Thennil blinked, as her niece changed before her, and the room changed. It was made of stone, and the room was filled with torchlight as it seemed that the world outside was dark. Her niece was no longer full of anger, but looked quite happy, content. Then the scene changed and she was standing before a large crowd, of what race should couldn't make out as she saw Mariam taking the large, work-ruffened hand took her slender one. A crown was upon her head, beautiful and golden, jewels embedded into the metal.

Then, in a flash she was back in Miluiel's old room and Mariam was glaring at her angrily.

"Something very special, far beyond your wildest dreams," she stated, eyebrow arched, letting the girl stomp out of the room and down the hall.

Moving to the window, she felt her heart heave a great sigh, as she saw her niece's horse vanish from the paddock and a blonde head disappear into the undergrowth at the edge of her vision.

"I'll be waiting."

 **Alright, so this chapter took the muse a lot of time to figure out, and she was really frustrated because it was going pretty slow. So, hope you enjoy! Please favorite, review, and the like!**

 **Just a note, I probably won't be able to post another chapter until sometime next week, the job is calling! :)**

 **Love ya, as always.**

 **Robin**


	17. Chapter 16

**T.A. 2933-Spring**

Morning. Sun filtered through the leaves of the tall oaks, maples, and firs. The breeze made soft noises through the branches, ruffling the leaves gently. Dew glittered on the bushes and the long blades of grass that poked up through the moss of the forest floor. It dripped from the petals of the many flowers that grew beneath the canopy, each drop as clear as a morning sky. Among the boughs, birds twittered and sand, their chirping becoming a natural part of the music of the woods. In the distance, beyond the trees, a stream could be heard bubbling as it danced over the rocks playfully. Sneaking through the brush trotted a doe and her faun, making their way to the stream for their morning drink of cool water. Here all was peaceful. Still. Calm.

Perched a top a boulder overlooking two sleeping figures, sat Thennil. Her body was ridged and alert, still as a statue, only her eyes moved, searching the undergrowth for any sign of a threat. Vaguely, she could hear the voices of her other three companions, their soft chatter drifting on the wind. She relaxed a small bit, glancing back at the still slumbering figures. After waiting a few moments she let out a sigh and closed her eyes, thinking deeply.

Everything had seemed to happen within the span of a few moments, in an instant. Even now she was having a hard time believing, numb from shock. How had she let her guard down? She didn't want to remember, it was too painful. The guilt had crept up upon her like a panther stalking it's prey, crushing her and tearing old wounds open again. Did she always have to be a few seconds too late?

And yet, should could not guilt herself too much. Arathorn was, and had been stubborn to the core, and being as pigheaded as he was at times, had decided to take on a foe that was to big for one person alone, letting down his own guard to his surroundings. The orc had been large, it's ugly face twisted in a permanent grimace, and much stronger than the man. Arathorn had gotten separated from his companions, never noticing the distance, and had missed the smaller orc. The orc had taken but a second, snarling and cursing the line of Isildur before drawing back his bow and firing an arrow at the chieftain. It had taken but a breath for the arrow to find it's mark.

He had hit the ground, arrow sticking from his face, having pierced through his eye. The anger that had coursed through Elladan, Elrohir, Mariam, and her veins had been unquenchable rage, and the orcs had come to know it. In the matter of a few minutes the rest of the orcs had been slain, blood seeping into the ground at the feet of the quartet, covering their bodies in the black liquid. Covered in the blood of their enemies, they had quickly removed the arrow from their fallen friend, binding it, before the twins had fashioned a stretcher to lay Arathorn's body on. Mariam had tried to use her gift to heal the man, and even with the combined efforts of Thennil, had been able to do nothing. He was to far gone.

Kneeling beside the broken man, his voice was choked with deep emotion, "I have failed, Thennil, just like my father, those before. I could not protect my people."

"Nay, my friend, never! You fought valiantly, honorably. The line of Kings still lives on strong in you, the line is not broken. Hold on, mellon nin. Hold on." she assured him, holding his hand as the twins settled him onto the stretcher. Her anger had turned to sadness, as her mind brought up all the times she had seen the chieftains fall on the front lines for their people, fighting to keep them safe.

It had been a sorrowful group that returned to the village, carrying the body of their fallen chieftain. The path they took was far from traveled, in hopes of avoiding the enemy if there were any left. Elladan and Elrohir worked hard to keep the stretcher steady, hoping to ease the ride for Arathorn as they travelled over the hills and down into the ravens. When they were a few minutes from the village, and Arathorn could hear the normal hubbub, causing him to rally his strength to sit up. A gentle hand pressed him back down, a glassy look in the owners eye, though the tears did not fall. It would not do to come in weeping, the people would know what the verdict would be without the silent crying.

Gilrean had been devastated, her young two year old son hoisted on her rounded hip sucking on his fist. Dropping to her knees, she had cradled her husbands head in her lap, smoothing out his black hair with her free hand. Aragorn was plopped on the ground as she took her husbands head into her lap, running her hand through his hair.

"The Line is not broken." he kept repeating over and over until her recognized her face, blinking his other eye.

"Nay, it is not," she had mourned, keeping her face schooled, though her emotions still seeped through. No tears fell, but she let out a muffled sob which she covered with her hand.

"Here is my joy," he gasped, a rattle in his lungs, "And there is our hope."

His hand had brushed his small son's head, messing with his still short hair as his eyes began to cloud over, slipping the ring into his small hands. Nothing the healers could have done would have saved him, even with the help of the elves who had superior knowledge of the art. Their chief slipped away in the arms of his wife, at that point Gilrean did weep. Long and hard. Her small son had stared in childish wonder at the people around him, kneeling before him, hands over their heart. He had no idea what this meant for him. He had tried to comfort his mother as she cried, wiping some of the tears from her face with his small fingers.

After she had finished, she ordered that her husband be buried alongside his father's. It was a small funeral, kept quite out of fear from the enemy finding out. Then she bid farewell to her people, embracing her parents and whispering hushed words, for to protect the last children of Numenor she bid Halbarmn to disband Taurdal. She asked that the Dunedin to find safety in small secret settlements in the depths of the forest Rhunduar.

Arathorn's words along with his mother-in-laws still echoed in the mind of his companions: "The Shadow grows ever longer, and its cruel arm reaches ever towards us. But we cannot loose hope. A time will come when the Dunedain regain their strength, and banish evil from these lands forever. But, until then, we have a duty to safe-guard our people at all costs."

And Ivorwen's words: "There may yet be hope for our people."

Gazing down at the child, she wondered at his father's and Grandmother's words. He was so small, so young, and so much was expected already from him. His mother had the ring of Barahir in her keeping, wearing it close to her heart, but one day it would rest upon his own hand, small though it was now. She watched as his small chest rose and fell, looking over his childish features. He looked similar to his father, the same proud chin, strong nose, but his eyes were his mother's a pale azure blue, but she knew that in time they would come to be more of a silvery grey-blue color.

 _He'll be a handsome man when he is grown,_ she smiled, looking over him. His hands were large as were his feet, undoubtably he would grow to be a tall imposing man like his father and grandfather, hopefully with the same amount of wisdom also. He flopped over in his sleep, away from his mother, with his back to the ground, head lolled to one side lazily. She laughed silently as he started awake, his curious eyes snapping open. Sitting up precariously, he looked around him in awe one only sees in small children. Everything was an adventure, all new and exciting. Ignoring his mother as she stirred, he toddled to his feet, wandering over towards a shiny stone that lay on the ground a few feet away. He nearly fell over once, but regained his balance quickly. Squatting, he picked up the pebble, turning it over in his hands and brushing it with his fingers. It was when he went to put it in his mouth that she lept forward and batted it away from him. His eyes got big, and his bottom lip began to stick out before he let out a pathetic cry, a few tears stealing down his chubby cheeks. Sweeping him up much like she had her niece, she held him close and began to rock him.

"Shh, shh, it's fine," she comforted, "Just don't try to put stones or anything else in your mouth, little Estel, you might choke."

He calmed instantly, snuggling into her neck, causing a strange shiver to run down her spine. Her heart seemed to sing, as if finding something that she had been missing. Pushing the strange feeling away, she assumed that it was the fact that she had not held a child in a very long time. He was warm, and quite the cuddler. Rocking him back and forth, she began to hum a song that she had sung to Mariam when she had been of the same age. He didn't fall back asleep, but remained still in her arms.

"I see that he is awake," Elladan muttered, coming up behind her.

"Aye, he looks like he'll be an active little thing," Elrohir stated, using one hand to pull the lads arm down and making a face at him, causing a healthy giggle from the boy.

"Yes, and hopefully a smart one," she said, raising a brow at her two brothers, a smirk adorning her face.

"What? Are you saying we're not smart?" Elladan gasped in horror.

"I'm sure you've got the wrong elves, sister, we're both extremely smart."

She rolled her eyes heavenward, "So switching Lindor's tracking books was a smart thing to do? He couldn't find them for almost a month, and had to write half of his work over again when he did because you hid it between two stones by the leaky fountain at the back of the garden."

"It was funny seeing him search high and low in his library when it wasn't even there!" the said innocently, hiding smiles behind their hands.

"I hope you don't rub off on him all that much," a new voice entered the conversation. Twisting around they found that Gilrean had awoken, and had straightened her dress. "From all the tale's of pranks I've heard from your sister I think that he would turn out rather badly."

"I wouldn't worry about them too much, Lady Girean," Mariam laughed, "I should think your main worry should be Aunt Thennil, she was the ring leader to begin with."

"Why you little snitch," the accused laughed, "I had you pinky swear when you were but nine that you would never say a word about those escapades!"

"I had my fingers crossed the whole time."

"Why-you little-extra training sessions with myself and Glorfindel when we return!"

Mariam paled slightly for effect, "No, oh no, please not with Glorfindel, he's so strict, brutal, and boring. Anybody but him!"

"He's a great teacher, he taught me. How do you think I got so good? Strictness and lots of practice."

"Yeah, yeah, and a ton of experience I would think."

"I would think that you were getting there, you've been out with the twins and Thennil numerous times visiting us, traveling, and going around hunting orc," Gilrean stated, looking at the young woman before her curiously.

"Yep, it'll be seventy-four years of experience in June," Mariam said, a proud look coming over her face as she helped pack up the bedrolls and other items that they had used to make their camp.

"And you're still learning."

"Yeah, yeah, Aunty. I'm hoping to go out again on my own this year, explore the lands to the farther south than Rohan, maybe go see Minas Tirith if I feel like it. I might even make a trek up to the blue mountains." she exclaimed enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up.

"You've seen the White City, right Aunty?"

Thennil nodded absently, glancing quickly over to her niece, unsure how to take her strange last comment.

"I've heard that the Great Gate is a sight to see, but the great stones are what really are supposed to have given it, it's name. The only part of it that is not white is the bottom wall, which is black. I've heard that only an earthquake can break it, it stands so firm and unyielding. Then there is the white tree," she rambled on, "which grows on the top-most level before the tower, but it has not bloomed in an age or more. They say it is to be left there until the king returns."

These words seemed to trouble Gilrean, who looked at her son sitting with his hands buried in the dirt, and she decided to change the subject, "Don't you have family the live up there in Ered Luin?"

"Aye, I do, or at least I think I do. My father had some surviving kin from Erebor, but I have never met them."

"Oh. But wouldn't they-umm-uhh-

"Look at me differently, probably. Hate me? Undoubtably, I'm a half-breed according to all the dwarves that I've come across, though I take after my mother in most respects, so that makes it worse."

"I would hope you look like your mother, I don't think I could imagine you with a beard!" Thennil laughed outright, the idea was absurd. She was sure that her niece would look extremely strange with a long braided beard. Her braided hair was enough dwarf custom for her, it would be weird otherwise.

"Agreed."

Silence swept over the camp as they each tended to their own things, rolling them up, replacing clothes in the bags, and putting out the last coals left over from the night before's fire. The twins had gone off to find the horses that they had been riding, whistling high to call them. Each woman, or elleth, kept her own thoughts to herself. Gilrean's wandered to her dead husband and scattered people, all the families that had had to move in order to keep them safe. Mariam's skipped down memory lane, remembering stories that her father had told her of the fallen stronghold of their people, it's massive halls and the glittering gold that they had fashioned into beautiful works of art. Thennil really did not think about the past, but rather the future, and the possibility of her niece meeting other's of her family and kind. It worried her deeply, knowing that they would probably cast her out and label her an outcast, a leper among her people. There was very little hope that she would be accepted at all unless she did something really great, like died for a noble or something of the sort.

"Since you ladies look like you're about done, why don't we mount up?" the twins popped up, horses in tow.

"What a lovely idea, brother's dear."

"It's my pleasure, my lady!" they teased back, though their eyes did not twinkle with the same amount of amusement.

"We will not tell the boy of is lineage," Elrond said, looking at the young lad who played in his wife's private garden, chasing butterflies.

"I agree, it will protect him from the enemy, they will think that the line has ended," Gilrean nodded, clasping and unclasping her hands.

"He should be called by another name, someth-

"Estel."

Her father turned from Gilrean, watching her as she perched on the window sill of the room,"What, Thennil?"

Looking up from watching the dark-haired boy, she met her father's eyes. "He is our last hope. Our only hope. It was his father's last words."

He seemed slightly stunned at her suggestion, but nodded in agreement. His eyes flashed and a strange look came over his face, but he masked it in a blink of an eye, "It is a fine name."

"I will bring him up as if he was one of my own," he continued, looking back to Gilrean," he will want for nothing. I will teach him as I did with my own children, his lessons with be through."

"That brings me a small comfort, that he will be well rounded, more so than his father and grandfather before him. I know that he will not always want to stay here, and by learning as much as he can now, he will be prepared for the different people that he will meet. The land will call him like it did his father, he won't wait long before he decides to venture out once he knows who and what he is."

"And when he does he will know how to defend himself, we will teach him with the help of Thennil, though it might not be quite like his father learned. Elladan and I know some of the traditions and ways that the boys learn among your people, we'll be his teachers." Elrohir pipped up yet again.

"I'm sure that if Mariam is about she'll want a hand in it too," Elladan joked, the young woman having taken off to do some of her "ranging" after they had all gotten Gilrean and Aragorn to Imladris safely.

"He'll need it if he eventually plans on being the chieftain," Gilrean said, looking out at her small son. "There is going to be so much expected out of him, so much that he will learn about himself and the world. I worry for him."

Thennil sat looking out fondly at the small boy romping in the beds of flowers. Another flash of a vision blinked before her, a young man, dressed in brown and green, sitting among the flowers, roughened by the world. His hands caucused, sword at his side, and a determined look on his face. Blinking again, there was a small boy standing where the man had sat, azure eyes gazing up at a marble statue of her mother.

"We all will."

 **I got this chapter whipped out on Friday, but did some touch ups to a few things. Hope you all enjoy it!**

 **Also, I would like to give a BIG thank you to Reaper2908, who messaged me about the story. We had a great talk about Aragorn and his romance in cannon with Arwen and how we both thought that he could have really used someone with a little more spice and worldly** **experience than she had. We also chatted about who she thought/hoped Thennil would end up with.**

 ***So, for all of those who are following this story, who do you think Thennil will end up and why? It can be anyone in the books or the movies, I was just really curious. I know who she'll end up with, so this won't exactly change anything, but it may change some of the story line that the muse is thinking up. So please message me or review and I'll let everyone know within the next few chapters the numbers!**

 **Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	18. Chapter 17

**T.A. 2938 -Summer**

 **"Don't trust everything you see, even salt looks like sugar." -Unknown**

Thennil picked up her clothes for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. She was never this disorganized, so why were her things spread from east to west, piled up in the corner, and tossed under her bed? It looked like a cyclone had happened in her bedroom and her wardrobe and dresser had puked all of it's contents up on her floors. Even her shoes were tossed over the floor, the laces to her boots tied together, was she sleepwalking?

A giggle erupted as she looked around her room in puzzlement, eyebrow quirked. Snapping to the left where her small balcony lay, she noticed a small shadow, before hearing the muffled noise of someone shushing the noisemaker. Going into stealth mode, she crept up to the window, listening to something slide over the railing. Jumping out onto her balcony, she leaned over the railing, the shadows disappearing around the corner, laughter echoing off of the walls and trees. She rolled her eyes, guessing the culprits. Well, they should be careful, they had just instigated some retaliation!

Sitting in the alcove down the hall from her brother's rooms, she continued to read her book, thoroughly enjoying the chapter. The pages were rough against her fingers, and the leather of the cover reminded her of the soft calf-skin boots that her mother had given her for her begetting day all those years ago. Hidden back in her alcove, she heard her two brother's and young Estel tramping down the hall. Although elves were known to be one of the cleanest races, the males of the race were still inclined to come in covered in dirt and grime up to their necks. Her brother's were no exception. She had to stifle a laugh when they began talking about how they got dirty that day.

"Elrohir, why did you dump me in that mud puddle? I was perfectly clean, and Ada had just complemented me on how good I was doing?" the young voice of Estel asked, irritated.

"You were looking a little too clean, brother, it's not normal."

"So? I hate baths, why would I get dirty more often? Then I'd have to take way more baths!" the youth complained, she could hear the shuffling of feet as Estel tried to push his elder brother.

"Hey! Enough of that! I'm not as dirty as you are, so I'll only need to take a short bath."

"Ahhh!" Elrohir screeched, stumbling. Estel giggled, and she could hear his small feet pounding down to their room.

"I'm going to get you for that, maggot! No one messes with my hair!"

"Only if you catch me first!" the lad laughed, slamming the door in his brother's faces.

"Not fair, you're the one that started it, Elrohir," Elladan grumbled, shoving his twin.

"Whatever, we'll get in through the window, come on!"

It didn't take her brother's too long to get out of the house and make their way around to their windows. From her alcove she could hear them whispering and hushing one another as they amended the wall outside the window to their room. After a few moments there was a loud angry scream from the bathroom, which she recognized as Estel's, and something being thrown. She chuckled as the noise quieted and the sound of splashing water was heard amid laughter. She smirked as a squeal came fro Estel, he was undoubtably being scrubbed down by his two older brother's. Knowing that it took them about a half hour to get him entirely clean before they sent him to get dressed, she waited a few minutes before standing to put her plan into effect.

Laughing silently, she reached down and grabbed the handle of the large bucket of mud and other things from the stable, twine, and a few wooden nails from the floor. Silently she ran up to the door, listening to the noise of water. It didn't take her long to realize that her brother's would be done bathing the small boy soon. By the time she heard the boy exit the bathing room she had all of the pegs in place, and was almost done with the twine. She had wiggled the nails into the crevice in the wall next to the doorframe, then had it travel up to the side of the door, then it wound it around the ones she had placed in the wooded beam above. She had finished the twine my tying it to another upright support, then using her ability to climb silently one-handed, she had climbed up onto the beam, and placed the bucket tilting off of the beam, only being kept from totally falling by the tension from the twine. Hopping quietly to the ground she smiled mischievously, envisioning what a mess the boys would be once they walked out their door. Checking the slip knot that she had made on the bottom of the door, she made sure that it would unknot easily.

There was a shout from the inside of the room, and she snatched up her stuff and booked it down the hall on soundless feet. It seemed that her brother's had discovered her first prank. She knew that they would try to fix what she had done, so she had time to hide all evidence of her work while she waited. Dumping the twine and extra nails in the garden shed used by Lindor, she walked slowly back to her alcove, her face school to all those who passed her. A few of those who were older than her raised an eyebrow curiously, knowing that something must be up. All the while she was laughing inside.

She was back reading her book for fifteen minutes before she even heard a squeak from her brother's rooms. Hearing them grumble and argue as they shuffled to the door, she set her book down after marking the page, crept to the edge of her hiding space, peering around the corner. She waited.

"We can't go out like this, Elladan, we'll look like fools!"

"Dinner is in half an hour, Elrohir, and we can't find a dye that fast and put it in our hair to get ride of this color!" Elladan groaned, "You care to much about your hair anyway."

"I do not!"

"You both look like someone used your heads for paint brushes," laughed Estel as he opened the door for his brother's. He was sure that he had heard something while he waited for his brother's to finish their baths.

"Not another word you! Be glad I didn't end up using my shampoo on your hair like you always beg!" Elrohir snapped, though he had a joking undertone to his threat.

"Come on, we don't want to be late!"

Waiting, she smirked as Elrohir and Elladan stepped forward through the door, Estel right on their heels. The twine slipped, slackened, and she leaned out further to get a better look. The bucket teetered for a second before toppling over, spilling all of it's wet, smelly contents down upon the trio.

"Ahhh!"

"Gross!"

"My HAIR! Ewww!"

Twisting back into her hiding spot before they noticed her watching, she covered her mouth as she began to laugh, belly aching. Their faces had been priceless! Elrohir's jaw had dropped, causing some of the mud on his face to fall into his mouth, which he had spit out right away, gagging. His clothes, which coincidentally had been a light silvery grey pair of trousers and a cream colored tunic would probably never get the stains out. Elladan was slightly better, but not by a lot. His hair had gotten the brunt of the mud, sliding down it's silky strands and dripping onto the pristine floor. The darker green tunic and almost black trousers wouldn't suffer as much, but he got more of the smelly contents of the bucket. His face screwed up in disgust, nose twitching. Estel had the better side of the bargain all around, having been the last person out of the room. He only got a small bit of mud on his clothes, and a splatter of it on his face, looking very much like he had painted on freckles, and his shoes were being dripped on by Elladan's mud covered hair.

"Who did this?"

"I don't know, but this is vile, look there's horse manure in it!" Elladan retched, pinching his nose, but then releasing it once he saw his dirty fingers.

"How are we going to get this stench out of our hair! Couple that with the ridiculous color, we're never going to be able to show our faces in the dinning room!"

"I bet it's the same person who put the dye in your hair stuff, Elrohir," Estel pipped up proudly.

The twins turned to him, eyebrows raised,"Was it you?"

Realizing what his comment might have done, he backpedaled,"But I didn't have anything to do with it, I promise!"

"What do you know?" The towered over the boy as he looked up pleading.

"I thought I heard someone messing around out here, but I never heard the noise again, so I didn't think anything of it."

"Well," the twins looked at each other, an evil look coming into their eyes, "This calls for another bath!"

Eyes going wide, the boy made to bolt, "No, no, NO! No more baths!"

Jumping forward, the twins caught him before he could take two more steps, dragging him back into the bedroom writhing and screaming bloody murder.

"So, when do you plan on leaving again?" Elrond asked, looking over at his eldest.

Twirling a strand of her long hair, she shrugged, "I'm not sure, Mariam is supposed to be returning sometime soon, and I want to be here when she does come home."

"We don't even know if she is coming back."

"I know, but I'd rather be here when she does than on the road somewhere out in the wild." she stated, looking around the table, passing over the heads of Glorfindel, Lindor, Gilrean, the empty chairs of her brother's along with Estel's smaller one, to the empty seat across from her. Arwen's seat. Her sister had gone to Lothlorien before Aragorn had been born, and had not been back to visit again since. It got rather lonely being the only lady at the table most of the times; Gilrean did not eat with them often, being more inclined to eating alone in one of the gardens or in her room.

"Where are those boys?" Glorfindel asked, his impatience finally breaking through his cool exterior. His fingers tapped the table methodically, and she knew that his feet were twitching beneath the table.

"I don't know, they know what time dinner is at, perhaps something has delayed them?" Elrond stated, folding his hands and placing them in his lap.

"This is quite strange for Estel," Gilrean observed, eyebrows crinkled in confusion,"He's always hungry, and hardly ever late for a meal."

"I would think so," Thennil laughed,"He eats like a horse, I'm surprised that everything that he puts on his plate fits in his stomach!"

A twinkle came into Gilrean's eyes, and she smirked before returning to her complacent look,"I'm not sure I know the answer to that question either."

Linder perked up, turning towards the archway, "Ahh, I hear them now, their dragging their feet tonight."

It didn't take long for the trio to appear, though it was longer than normal. Stepping into the room, they froze, noticing all the eyes looking at them. Their shoulders tensed, as the group seated took in their appearance. Glorfindel was the first one to break down laughing, pounding a fist on the oak table, everyone else joined in chuckling or laughing uproariously. The trio's hair was all different colors, Elladan had blue hair, Elladan had a bright crimson red, and Estel had streaks of green scattered through his near black hair. They scowled at everyone, and hurried to be seated as quickly as possible.

Their father was just about to start serving from the platter when his nose wrinkled,"Whatever is that horrid smell?"

The trio groaned, shifting in their seats as everyone swung to look at them.

"It smells like you went and took a bath in the manure pile, then tried to cover it up with a florally scent," Lindor stated, his own nose wrinkled in disgust, trying not to gag.

"Is this some new thing that the ellons are doing to attract the women? Because if it is, I don't think it's going to work!" Glorfindel guffawed, holding his sides laughing.

"I thought it was a rather strange concept too, but who knows, maybe it will attract the ladies," Elladan flirted, though there was a blush working it's way up his pale neck.

"The only thing that you boy's will be attracting is flys," Thennil chuckled, eyes tearing up,"Did you even take a bath?"

"A mud bath, you mean!"

"Someone pranked us!" the boys cried indignantly.

"So it seems," Gilrean smiled, then turning to Elrond she smiled politely ,"Do you think they could take their dinner out to the garden, or the paddocks perhaps?"

"I think that is a splendid idea, Lady Gilrean," he nodded, a spark of amusement in his eye,"Off with you three, swing by the kitchens and grab something to eat."

"What?"

"It wasn't our fault!"

"Ada-

"Go on, there's no need to spoil our dinner with that stench when you can share it with your comrades out in the pastures," he ordered, face hardening.

The trio groaned, slipping out of their seats, and tramped out of the room, noses in the air. The group burst out laughing all over again when they heard the boys begin to argue over who would get to the kitchens first, and who could snag the most food while they were there. Some things would never change.

"What am I ever going to do with them?" Elrond asked, rubbing his head, looking up to the heavens.

"Estel, why do you keep following me around?" Thennil asked for the thousandth time in frustration.

"Mooo!"

"Come on, I've got to get ready for Arwen, she'll be here within two weeks and I still have a tone of cleaning and organizing to do to her room after you boys messed it up last week!"

"Mooo!" the little boy said, giggling afterwards.

Sighing, she just continued dusting the ornate wooden mantle-piece in Arwen's sitting room. Why did she even bother? After finishing the mantle she turned to look at the rest of the room and groaned, why did Arwen have to have such a strange taste in furniture? Everything was beautiful, but there were tons of crevices and nitches that dust seemed to find and hide in. She stopped, looking down at the rag in her hand then to the boy who sat atop Arwen's bed, which was piled high with sheets, curtains, and the like. She smiled, an idea forming in her mind.

"Estel, since you insist upon following me around, you get to be my helper today," she tossed him the rag, and pointed to the chair that she hated most,"Dust that, every crack and crevice, no dust is to be left unfound. We're fighting off the dust-bunnies that have invaded this room! Come on, warrior, get too it!"

The boy leapt from his spot, standing up straight, shoulders back and head level."Yes Ma'am, right away!" and tackled the chair, his rag swishing quickly over the arms and legs.

Smile victoriously, she went on through her duties. They had fun that afternoon, fighting the dust enemy, sneaking up on the enemy, yelling and shouting. She even got him to wash some of the sheets with her when she went down to the washroom. They went on an exploration under Arwen's bed, finding a shoe that had seen better days, a broken comb, and an old stocking riddled with holes. She had laughed at the stocking, it had been so small, apparently from when her sister was still an adventurous little girl. Estel had asked for stories about her sister, and she happily obliged him, telling him about their games of hide and seek, the nights that they would all sit in from of the fire with their parents listening to her father read, and the pranks that they had pulled together.

"She sounds like she's a lot of fun, I can't wait to meet her," the boy said excitedly, bouncing on his heels while he scrubbed the floor with a brush.

"Aye, she said sadly, she was, but our mother's death changed her. She has become far less adventurous, I'm surprised that she went to see our grandmother, and rarely does she take part in any of the pranks that we pull when she's around."

"What does she look like?"

She paused, thinking, "Well, she looks a lot like my naneth, her eyes and manners are similar, but she really takes after ada with her dark ebony hair, when she wears her silver cornet it looks like there are a thousand little stars twinkling from her hair, like the night sky. And her skin, it's so pale that it looks like you could puncture it like a piece of paper. She's got this aura around her that makes you want to just listen and watch her."

"I bet she's beautiful."

"Aye, she is." shifting on her feet, she wondered if he thought that she was beautiful. She knew that she wasn't quite as stunning as her sister, with her coppery hair and sapphire eyes. Add her scars and blind eye, and it detracted from that beauty. Her hand hesitantly reached up and ran over the faint scar that crossed over her eye, feeling the almost nonexistent raised skin there bitterly. No, she was not the innocent dark beauty like her sister, she was a lighter, battle hardened beauty, one that said she had survived, that she was determined.

Walking through the garden, she listened for the small footsteps of the young boy she had found gone from his bed as she tracked him through the flowerbeds. He had been sent to bed early the night before, and spent the whole day with his mother before being put to bed again, missing the arrival of her sister. He had talked for hours about meeting her sister, asked her questions upon questions about her, and pleaded to be able to stay up until the group made an appearance. Elrond had been stern and ordered him to bed, saying that it was not healthy for little boys to stay up late, that it stunted their growth. Grumbling, he had done as told, climbing into bed. Thennil had been the one to put him to sleep, singing the Lay of Luthien to him, which normally had him passed out within the first few lines.

The morning sun was shining down brightly, illuminating the garden in it's warm light. She came upon him, crouching in-between the bushes behind a fountain. He began to move through the garden, ducking beneath branches and hopping over patches of flowers silent as a mouse. Deciding to follow him to see what he was up to, she crept after him. He was quick for one so small, leaving not even a leaf, it seemed, shaking in his wake. She was curious at why he was going through the beds of the garden when he could just take one of the many winding paths that crisscrossed through it. She saw him stop, looking over a clearing where the forest met the garden. Listening, she heard her sister's voice singing softly, and her soft footfalls on the grass.

She heard him gasp, his small jaw dropping in awe at the beauty of the elf before him. Arwen was dressed in a gown of silvery blue, her dark hair falling down her straight back in luscious waves, not a hair out of place. Her silvery eyes did not find the lad among the green foliage, her song filtering through the trees, floating on the breeze. She was like a fantom.

"Luthien!" he cried, leaping forward, his small heart pounding a mile a minute. "You are more beautiful than even the songs say!"

Arwen froze in her movements, turning to look at the small boy curiously. "You must be Estel, of whom I have heard much of."

"Aye, I am my lady!" he said, rushing forward and falling on his knees before her.

Thennil did not quite understand why, but his word were like a knife twisting in her heart as they continued to talk. He knew nothing of Arwen, only that which she and her brother's had told him. It was like he had betrayed her, but he was but a child and had made no promises to her. Shaking herself, she placed a hand over her heart, breathing heavily as it palpitated hard within her chest. What was wrong with her?

Standing from her place among the trees and bushes, she stepped into the clearing. "Estel, what have you been doing? I've been looking all over for you, you weren't even in your bed! Your mother has been worried sick!"

The boy jumped, startled by the voice, "I just wanted to find Arwen! You told me so much about her that I wanted to meet her, but I had to stay with mother."

"Aye, any you have found her," she said, motioning to her sister tiredly.

He spun back to the star-like elleth,"Oh, you're Arwen?"

"Aye, penneth, I am." she smiled, though it did not reach her eyes.

"Come now," Thennil said, "You have led me on a merry chase, and I need to get you back to your mother."

"Aww, couldn't I stay a little while longer?" he begged.

"Some other time, come," she said, finally smiling.

He smiled then, and bounced over to her and taking her hand, turning to Arwen,"See you later, my lady!"

"Any you!" she called as they moved away, following one of the paths back to the house.

Once they were far enough away, Estel withdrew his hand and started walking backwards while looking at her.

"You're going to fall walking that way."

"Never, you'll always catch me!"

"You're quite trusting, penneth." she laughed, watching him. He had a dreamy look on his face. They walked silently for a few minutes, both lost in thought.

"I love her."

"Love who?"

"Arwen, I love her," he whispered like it was some great secret.

"She is so much older than you are, penneth," she forced out a laugh.

"Yes, but it's like in the song that you sang to me last night, it is possible for her to love me back," he stated, skipping.

"Yes, it is possible."

"I can't wait to see her again!" he laughed, smiling widely as they reached the entrance to the house and he ran to find to find his mother.

 _I don't know if she can allow herself to love you back,_ she thought, remembering the grief and inkling of bitterness that her sister still held in her heart over the loss of their mother. Perhaps he would fall out of love with her sister, he was so young that he wouldn't quite understand it. She knew that he would only end up with a broken heart if Arwen rejected him. If she accepted the boy when he was a man she would have to choose between immortality and becoming a mortal. Their father would never allow it.

 **I know that Aragorn didn't see Arwen until he was older, but for the sake of my story, I'm having it happen when he was a young boy. So, sorry to all of you who like that original story-line.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please message me, or review within the chapters, about who you think Thennil will end up with?**

 **Robin**


	19. Chapter 18

**I want to thank everyone for all the support, and some of you specifically.**

 **Angel897: You have reviewed and let me know how much you enjoyed my writing every chapter. I really like that you let me know if you liked what I wrote!**

 **AndurilofTolkien: I'm glade you weren't upset about how young Aragorn met Arwen, I know that some people don't like it when fanfic writers mess with cannon characters.**

 **Rogue's Queen:For being the first one to review my new story!**

 **Ann11Mary(Guest):You'll have to wait and see...**

 **Guest:I'm so glade that you were happy to find my story, I totally know how you feel like binge reading when you find something that** **interests you. I have to learn to pace myself when I have a long list of fanfics(or anything) that I want to read. I would find myself staying up every night!**

 **Evenstar(Guest): I would have someone proofread my chapters, but unfortunately I don't have many people who like to read fan fiction in my house who would read this, so yeah, I totally would if I could. At this point I am writing a lot of the chapter(s) in a notebook and then transferring them to the Doc Manager here on . I'm super thrilled that you like my story, and I hope you let me know if something improve!**

 **Disclaimer(Because I don't think I put one :p): I don't own the Lord of the Rings, Hobbit, or anything from the Silmarillion that I might have snagged. It all belongs to Tolkien and PJ. I only own Thennil, Miluiel, Tilrim, and Mariam at the moment.**

 **Enjoy the Chapter!**

 **T.A. 2941-April**

She walked the halls of her father's house like a fantom, nodding to those who passed her, but not paying attention to any comments that were made to her. Her eyes were distant, searching, glazed over and glassy. Her mind was focused on places far away, looking for a certain figure, one which she had not heard from in many years time. She had spent many nights sitting in her room before her window, eyes closed, a copper glow surrounding her like pixie dust in the moon light. But the person did not seem to want to be found, or they were dead. She had only begun to have an inkling of worry when the letters or notes stopped coming, but assuming that they had just gotten lost, or were still making their way to her, she had let it slide. Nothing had ever come. In her heart she knew that once she had stopped receiving the missives that she should have been worried. It had been too long, and the worry had started to eat at her. Mariam had never been like this.

Turning the corner, she found herself face to face with her two brothers. Nearly toppling over, she caught on to Elrohir's sleeve in attempts to keep her balance. Righting herself, she looked up into their faces wondering where they had come from.

"What is this?" Elladan asked, helping her steady herself.

"Our warrior sister unaware of her surroundings?"

Smoothing her tunic, then dusting off the nonexistent dust, she replied,"No, just distracted."

"By whom?" An Ellon?" Elladan teased giddily.

"No," she shook her head, rolling her eyes,"I-

"Because if it was, I'm going to have to go have a talk with him," Elrohir stated seriously, crossing his arms and looking around and glaring at the ellons within the hallway sternly. No one would be getting anywhere close to his sister while he still lived and breathed.

"Its not an ellon, so get a grip! I'm just worried about Mariam," she growled testily.

"Why? She's a big girl, she can take care of herself without you looking over her shoulder all the time."

"I haven't heard from her in over five years, there's been no letters, notes, or messages through the birds from her. I can't even feel or see her fea!"

"She was always good at hiding, why wouldn't she be good at hiding her fea from you? Maybe she wants some time on her own, learning things through experience?"

"I know she's good at hiding, which worries me, because I don't know if she's hiding or if she's dead. What if she's been hurt? Captured? or taken advantage of?" she began to panic, the worry consuming her,"I would never know, I would never know! What if I could have done something? saved her? protected her?"

"Stop worrying about the 'what if's'. It serves you no purpose staying up at night and worrying, which I know you have been, and stressing over things you have absolutely no control over."

"She's practically my daughter, even if I did not beget her, I can't seem to help it!"

"Sometimes the best thing that you can do is not think, not wonder, not imagine, not obsess. Just breathe, and have a little faith that everything will turn out right, Thennil. You did teach her many of the things that she knows, she'll be fine," Elrohir stressed, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

"She's a fighter, have some faith in her skills," Elladan chuckled,"I don't think that if she went down, she'd go down easy."

"Aye, you're right," she laughed forcibly,"I just tend to overthink things when it comes to her."

Her brother's hugged her, watching as a smile came to her face, the worry slipping away from her features, but not from her eyes. It saddened them that she couldn't take her mind off of the young woman out wandering the wild somewhere. It did not age her body, but it could be seen in her brilliant sapphire eyes. The followed her form down the hall with their eyes, seeing her come to a stop looking over the mountains to the west, eyes squinting at the paths that led down into the valley.

Mariam would be fine.

"Hurry, Elladan! Elrohir! I've spotted a group of Orcs traveling up from the south!" she cried, rushing into the library where her brother's sat identically across from one another reading the ancient tombs. Dropping the books on the large desk in the center of the room, they bolted after her out of the house and into the armory.

"This looks to be a strange mix, they've got more wargs than the last group I spotted three weeks ago," she chatted, pulling the light, but strong chainmail over her head.

"Any other details?" Elladan asked, snapping on a a belt over his own chainmail.

"There doesn't look to be a defined leader, which means it will be easier to take them out because they won't have someone ordering them," she said, strapping on her sword and grabbing an extra quiver of arrows in addition to the one that would be hanging from her saddle once she got to the stables.

"How many of the warriors are accompanying us?"

"Thirteen not including myself, Ada, and you two."

"So, sixteen altogether?"

"Aye."

"Should be enough to hunt and take down a few orc. How many did you say there were?" Elrohir asked, as he grabbed his own sword, trotting out of the armory with her and his brother toward the stables.

"Around twenty, maybe thirty at the most." They hurried down the halls, dodging past sedate elves giving them reproving looks as they dashed around the corners.

"I'm coming too!" a blur shot out from one of the joining halls behind them, running to catch up with Thennil at the front of the trio, his dark hair flying out like a halo.

"Oh no you're not!" Elrohir cried, snagging the culprits collar as he got clothesline by his other brother. Sliding to a stop, he lifted the lad up as he kicked his arms and legs, fists swinging, glaring up at his elder brother's in frustration.

"Why not? I can fight too!" He cried, struggling in the iron grip of his elder.

"You will. Someday. Just not today," Elladan grew serious, his eyes darkening as he tightened his vambraces.

"You've been teaching me, I've got this!"

Elrohir dropped the boy in a pile of lanky arms and too long legs on the floor. Struggling up from his ungraceful descent, the boy stuck his tongue out at his brother's as he grabbed the pommel of his dull metal sword that sat strapped to his waist. Turning to Thennil, he put on his best begging face, eyes widening, and sticking his fat bottom lip out pathetically. Though he still had a fascination with Arwen, which had not changed in the three years since he had first saw her in the clearing, Thennil was the one he looked up to and adored when it came to the training field. Not even Glorfindel could come close to how high he held her in his mind. It might have had something to do with all the stories she ended up telling him before he went to bed.

" _Please, Thennil!_ I know I can do it. I can fight just like everyone else. I want to fight with you." he begged, clasping his hands and kneeling before her.

She wanted to laugh, and cry at the same time, her mind flashing back to a similar position that he had fallen into when he saw Arwen. But this was different, he wanted something that she could not give him now. Crouching down on the balls of her booted feet, she gazed lovingly into his eyes, smoothing back a stray strand of his hair with a finger. With that same hand, she gripped his shoulder, squeezing it gently as she looked at him. So determined, so desperate.

"I would love for you to fight with us, for me to fight by your side-he perked up, looking at her hopefully-but I cannot justify bringing you into battle when you are still so young, and have little experience-his shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the floor- You must understand how much I love you, Estel, if something happened to you I could never forgive myself."

"But nothing will happen, we'll kill a few orcs and be back in time for dinner!" he pleaded in one last attempt to get them to take him with them.

"No, Estel, not this time." He hung his head, dejected.

"But, I do need you for another job, one far more pleasant and rewarding." she stated, a knowing smile on her face.

"What?" he asked, perking up all over again.

"I need you to protect the kitchens for me," he looked at her puzzled,"We're all going to come back starving, and if someone bothers cook and gets her talking, we won't have enough for dinner!"

"No! You really think that she won't make enough?" he gasped, jaw on the floor. Not enough food was an unheard of thing for the boy.

"Yes," she nodded, trying to be serious,"So you have to protect her, keep people away from her. Can you do that?"

"Aye! I can!" he nodded violently.

"Good! Now off to the kitchens with you, someone might already be talking to cook!" she encouraged, giving him a light push in the direction of the kitchens.

Running down the hall, he didn't even give them a glance. Then skidding to a halt, he twisted around and trotted back to her, throwing his arms around her neck, and burying his face in her silky hair.

"I love you!" then leaning back, he looked her in the eye,"Be careful."

Then, he was gone.

She stood there, stunned.

"Well, I guess we don't matter, do we Elrohir." Elladan said in mock hurt.

"Nope, we're just his brothers, what a shame," Elrohir sighed dramatically, leaning on his brother as he slung his arm around his shoulders.

"He said he loved me," she whispered to softly for them to hear, those words had only ever been reserved for his mother and Arwen. He had never said anything like that to her ever, it was strange. Giving herself a shake, she stood from the floor, and looked at her two brother's who were giving her a knowing smirk.

"Shut up," she hissed, walking passed them.

"He's got you wrapped around his little finger," they teased, poking her in the side.

"No, he doesn't, I just like to give him what he wants," she groaned,"some of the time."

"Or you're just his favorite," they laughed.

"Let's hunt some orc!" she growled, hurrying to get ahead of them.

The Orcs had not been overly careful in hiding their tracks, and it had been easy to pick up where she had last saw them and follow. The ground that they travelled over was rough and uneven, hard to cross at great speeds if one was on foot, but easy enough if a person had a mount. The trail led from further south up near the hidden pass. Since she was in the lead, being the best tracker among them, she heard the horrific shouting and growling of the wargs and orcs. In the distance, she could make out a the group chasing something, a flash of gold and green bouncing along among browns and blacks. But still being a fair way away from the herd she was unable to make out the many dashing figures.

Galloping forward she unstrung her bow from over her shoulder, and snatched an arrow with bright green fletching from her quiver, stringing it. Taking her time, she sighted in one of the orcs running over the plains on his dark warg. She realized that they were incredibly close to the Hidden Pass, and that if they continued any further she might discover it. Releasing the arrow, it flew and hit the rider, grabbing another from the quiver at her back she dropped the sorry excuse for a warg where it ran. Momentum kept the orc on it's original path, causing it to roll off the dead warg and fall over the edge of the rocks. Hearing her companions, she threw her bow over her shoulder and withdrew her long sword, rushing the contingent of orcs into one group.

Riding back from their hunt was only slightly refreshing, mostly because all of the ellon kept boasting at how many orcs they had slain, etc. They joked about the ways that the beasts faces had looked when the life went out of them. Some of them were very descriptive. Her brother's boasted the number of kills that they had made, only being trumped by Glorfindel. Even now, so many years after their mother had left, they were still enacting their revenge on the orcs, showing no mercy. Before they could get anymore descriptive of their kills, Ada had grunted and sent a stern glare over the group, his signature eyebrow raised. They quieted down after that.

Trotting up next to her, her brother's smiled mischievously, and asked in unison,"So, what's your count?"

"Eight, not including all the wargs running around," she muttered, picking at a seam in her trousers absently.

"They snorted, and moved on to pester some of the other's on how many they had got.

"Show off," Glorfindel chuckled from his saddle, hitting her gently in the arm.

She rolled her eyes,"It's not showing off if it's what I'm trained and ordered to do. It's my job."

"Still showing off, even got more than I did."

"That's not surprising, you were watching over all those whippersnappers," she teased, eyes filling with amusement.

"Someone has to do it! I'm not going to be the one to tell any of their mother's that their child is dead by beheading because they weren't paying attention to their surroundings."

"I'm sure that they appreciate their children returning in one piece!"

Trotting up the pathway, the hooves of their horses clattered on the stones and ringing through the valley, they came upon a curious sight. In the center of their courtyard stood a strange, ragged group of dwarves. One of them cried something out, causing them all to huddle up tightly, weapons raised. The group of mounted elves surrounded the dwarves, circling them on their tall steads, intimidating. What were dwarves, especially in this number doing here in Imladris?

Her eye caught sight of a tall pointed grey hat off to one side, and she smiled, having seen this hat many times. Slowing to a stop on the opposite side of the dwarves, nearest the stair that led down into the courtyard, her brother's and the other's gathered around her, gazing with open puzzlement at the group. Beneath her helmet she saw them all watching the group, distrust in the forefront of their eyes, going over the many weapons that could be seen. She smirked, oh, the bitterness between the races could be seen quite clearly. She wanted to laugh at her people, the dwarves were quite a unique people, loyal to the end, and holding grudged until death.

Separating from the group, their Ada greet Gandalf,"Mithrandir!"

The wizard, bowed at the waist, inclining his head and placing a hand over his heart in greeting, "Lord Elrond, mellonen! Mo evinedh?"

"Farabben 'lamhoth i uvula a charad Dagannem rim na lant Vendue," their father stated, dismounting and drawing Mithrandir into an embrace. "It is strange for orcs to come so close to our borders, it had my daughter and her warriors worried. Something, or someone seems to have drawn them near."

He held up a jagged, black sword of crude make, earning grunts from some of the dwarves. As he handed it to Lindor, the elf tried to mask his disgust with the offensive weapon. Turning, he looked over the company of dwarves, his glaze falling on the dwarf standing in front of the others. From his dark hair, short beard, and slightly taller height from his kinsmen, he realized that this must be Thorin. He matched the description that his daughter had given him and what he had seem in a very young dwarfling long ago. Thorn glared daggers at the elf, holding his chin high with pride.

"Ahh, that may have been us," Mithrandir chuckled, sounding a small bit nervous, fiddling with his staff.

Thorin stepped forward from the group, looking at the many elves gathered around him, but looking up at Elrond pointedly. There was hostility in his blue eyes, anger and frustration radiated off of him.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror." the elf lord greeted him.

"I do not believe we have met," the dwarf spat, trying to hold on to his fraying temper.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"He made no mention of you."

Already irritated at the dwarf's lack of respect for her father, and the fact that they would be providing rooms and food for the large company of dwarves, Thennil rode forward. Catching the attention of the whole yard, she pulled her helmet off, letting her long copper hair cascade down her armored shoulders. Gasps could be heard from among the dwarves, and a few of them leaned forward to gap at her. Thorin's eyes grew large, recognizing her, but his face instantly returned to what seemed to be his normal expression, a scowl.

"Perhaps he did not mention Lord Elrond, but I am sure that he had something to say about me, Oakensheild," she let her voice echo over the yard, gluing everyones eyes to her like a siren's song to a sailor.

The dwarves were still in shock, blinking their eyes, some of the older ones even rubbed them before looking again. It was hard to believe their eyes, but they knew it must be her.

"Ushmar?" a short dwarf with reddish hair gasped in awe, having pushed his way through the ring to the edge. He was adorned with numerous knitted pieces of clothing, and on his fingers should could see the remainder of ink that had not been able to be washed away. There was a intelligent and bookish look about him, causing her to label him as the scribe of the company. Along with the other dwarves, he waited in anticipation, barely daring to breath. She could see the hope in his eyes, the wonder. Within the dwarves culture she had become a legend, the guardian and helper of their people when they were in need or distress. She was the only elf that any of them had ever not had bad blood with, but rather would beg her to grace their homes for one night. She was revealed among them just like their ancestor, Durin.

"Aye, young one." Handing the helmet to one of her brother's, she dismounted and walked slowly towards the youth. Kneeling before him, she pulled a braid out from the left side of her head, the silver bead adorning it, etched with the dwarven symbols for guardian and helper along with a few tiny leaves surrounding a sapphire that was no bigger than mustard seed.

The dwarves whispered in awe, before stumbling over one another and offering her their gratitude and thanks. She blushed lightly, brushing off their 'thank you's'.

Once the dwarves had calmed down, her father spoke,"Nartho i noir, tooth i viruvor. Boy i annam vann a lethail vin."

Bristling, a dwarf who had introduced himself as Gloin, growled,"What does he say? Does he offer us insult?"

The dwarves grew uneasy, gripping their weapons tighter and glaring at the other elves.

Rolling her eyes, she wanted to crack their heads together, even if their hard heads wouldn't feel anything.

"Nay, Master Dwarf, he is offering you good and a warm bed," two female voices stated in exasperation.

Whipping around, Thennil pierced through the group of dwarves with her excited eyes, looking for the owner of the voice. It was not long before she found a golden head of hair and a pair of emerald green eyes were staring back at her with joy. After a second, they were both pushing through the group towards one another, hastily saying apologies to those they stepped on, before throwing themselves into one another's arms.

 _ **"Aunty!"** _ the young woman cried, squeezing her tightly.

 **" _Oh Mariam! My heart, where in Arda have you been?"_**

"Traveling, rafting, guiding merchants, and saving people's butt's in general, what else?" laughing.

Stepping back, she looked over her niece, searching for any signs of harm that had come to her, any new scars. There were not many, and those that were new were small, raised, but healed fully. She leaned forward and kissed the blonde brow, eyes closed.

"I was so worried about you, I haven't received any missives or anything from you at all, what happened?" she asked, raising her eyebrow much like her father did.

"Well-

"How do you know Mariam?" came a gruff accusing voice.

Controlling her frustration, she turned to look at the dwarf king,"I knew her father, fought with him in battle, and her mother was one of my dear friends before she passed from this world. She is my niece."

He didn't seem quite how to take her statement. "Oh."

Smirking, she tried to control her mirth,"So I have left young Thorin Oakenshield speechless yet again?"

Eyes narrowing, he huffed, then mumbled,"It was only one time, and I was but a dwarfling."

Her own eyes twinkling, she let out a musical laugh,"Only one? I seem to remember quite a few more times than that."

"You knew our uncle?" two voices, similar in pitch, but different all the same.

Swiveling, she looked down at two young dwarrows, one blonde, the other dark brown. It didn't take her long to see the impish nature lurking beneath their polite question. A light seemed to pop into her head, and she instantly recognized the look in an older dwarrowdam that she knew.

"You must be Dis' sons," she said, looking them up and down.

The blonde one blushed, and the dark one grinned cheekily,"Fili-

"And Kili-

"At your service." They answered in unison, and she wondered how they had ever been able to do it without practice, adding a bow at the end too!

"And Thennil Eldariel at your's," she said, giving a small bow herself.

"A pleasure; so, do you know any more things about Uncle Thorin?" They asked, slyly.

"Perhaps, but I do not think that they are stories for the dinner table, and you must ref," she chuckled, as they all walked into the building in a large group.

"Later then," they whispered before rushing up to walk with their Uncle innocently.

Snatching Mariam's arm, she whispered,"I expect you to meet me on the training fields at six sharp, I want to know everything."

"Definitely! See you then!" the young woman laughed conspiratorially, running off down one of the adjoining halls towards her old rooms.

Watching the fleeting figure of her niece fly down the halls, she noticed she wasn't the only one looking after the disappearing figure. A tall, dark haired dwarf watched the retreating golden head bounce down the halls, a puzzled look on his face. Ignoring the feeling that she sensed from the dwarf, she turned to lead some of the company to rooms to change into clean clothes and wash up. Dinner would be served within the hour.

 **So, hope you all enjoy! I'll let everyone know about the number of people hoping for different ships after I get a few more reviews/messages.**


	20. Chapter 19

The morning light filtered through the trees, shining down onto the elegant outdoor hallway that snaked around the house like city. Hidden in the shadow of an alcove, Thennil paged through her book. It was early yet, but in the distance she could hear the sounds of the dwarves snoring or chatting amongst themselves. Lifting her head, she looked towards the sound of bare feet pattering softly on the ground. Up the walk stepped the halfling, Bilbo, if she recalled his name correctly. He was a small little thing. She had only encountered a few halflings in her travels, and that had only been in Bree or if she had cut through the Shire in the hours of the early morning. Observant as she was, she knew a fair amount about them, and their likes. It had surprised her that this child of Eru had willingly travelled so far from his warm hobbit hole.

It had fascinated her when she had travelled when these little people appeared and settled in the land that would become the Shire. They built their homes in the ground, digging into the hills and making them livable, and comfortable too. She had come to recognize them for their curly hair, on both their heads and toes, lack of shoes, and brightly colored clothes and doors. They did not wander far from their homes, close family living only a few miles a way at most. She had once stopped at the Green Dragon Inn to have a pint of the famous floral like mead that the hobbits were so fond of making, and drinking. She had found it quite different from the wine and Limpë that she had drunk among her kind at festivities. The halflings had been equally curious and cautious around her because of her height and the fact that she dressed like the rangers that were only rumored to travel around the Shire.

Bilbo tip-toed his way down the hall, looking everywhere, twisting and turning trying to take it all in. His curious eyes travelled over the ornate railings, carved with trees, to the magnificent arches of oak and cherry wood, twisted in elegant curves up and over the path. Approaching the small cove, one that she hid on the other side of, she saw him pause before the statue that held the sword of Narsil, the sword that cut the ring from Sauron's hand. He did not reach out and touch it like many of the visitors often did, but peered at it closely before turning to look at the mural painted on the wall behind it. His eyes lingered on the tall dark form of Sauron, his dark helm covering his face, and a mace upraised in his hand, golden ring gleaming on his finger.

"It was a terrible, yet joyous day, when Sauron was vanquished," she stated from the shadows.

Jumping, the hobbit whirled around, hand over his pounding heart,"Oh!"

"Forgive me, mellonin, I forget that even you halflings are not quite as aware of other's as we elves are."

"I was merely startled, I didn't think anyone would be about," he said, chuckling in embarrassment, fumbling with his vest, copper buttons glinting in the light.

"Nay, not in this passage, this is where you will find those that wish for a little peace and quiet."

He raised his eyebrow in puzzlement, wondering what the elves thought of as loud.

She let out a silvery laugh, reading his expression looking out over the gardens,"It is not from physical noise that we seek solace from, but that which plagues the mind. Here there are the trees, falls, and birds that we can find peace amongst-turning to look him the eye, she asked,"Will you find peace here, Bilbo of the Shire?"

"Perhaps, but perhaps not," he sighed, eyes flicking up to look at her every few seconds.

Noticing his quick, subtle glances, she looked down at him,"What is it, Periannath?"

"You are-he paused, searching for the proper word-breathtaking."

She laughed, the morning sun trickling down and causing her copper hair to glimmer in the warm light. Her skin glowed a pale white, angelic, and her blue eyes sparkled. He had remembered seeing her in a tunic and trousers at the dinner the night before, hands folded in her lap as she sat listening to Elrond, face pale and emotionless. Now she was dressed in a gown, one which he couldn't define as neither green or blue. It flowed like water around her, rippling like waves when she walked, her bare, white feet stepped soundlessly across the ground. She was like one of the Valar sent to Arda, a goddess among men, and elves. Even her scars, though faded, added to her beauty. They showed her courage, her fearlessness, her endurance, her honor.

"You jest, penneth," she chuckled depreciatingly.

"I speak the truth, never have I laid eyes upon one so fair, not even those I saw passing through the Shire as a child could have held a candle to your beauty," he persisted, then blushed at his boldness.

"I thank you, Bilbo, it is enlightening to know that I am not that hard on the eyes," she smiled, sadness creeping into her sapphire eyes.

"It was nothing," he smiled.

"I pray that you enjoy the remainder of your stay, however long it is, and perhaps you will visit us again?"

"I hope to, if I ever do get the opportunity," he chuckled, nodding, and wandered off down the hall to explore the many paths, gardens, and falls that crisscrossed through the city.

The ringing of metal on metal echoed through the crisp morning air, the dew still dripping from the leaves. Laughing, the two females continued to circle one another, eyes watching one another calculatingly. Their bodies were wreathed in sweat, it beading at their brows and dripping down the backs of their shirts as they strained agains one another. While the elves of Imladris and Lothlorien were known for their excessive modesty, these two seemed to have taken on the customs of their Mirkwood kin, stripping down to their light green under tunics and faded trousers of dark brown. This left their arms bare, Mariam's at the shoulder and Thennil's at the elbow, a state of undress that they only donned when they were training by themselves. Their muscles rippled, tone and hard from years of training and living in the wild. Their movements were quick and aggressive, each looking for an opening while they spoke.

"So, Mithrandir found you on your way south, heading towards Breeland? I suppose he cornered you there and persuaded you to join Thorin's party?"

"Aye, he did more than just persuade me, he subtly threatened me that if I didn't go that he might turn me into a frog-she shuddered, never liking the slimy creatures-or something worse. Apparently he thought that I would be a great guide because I have a good sense of direction and I have travelled Arda for most of my life."

"Originally you were going to be taking a band of merchants from Rohan to Lake Town, what happened then?"

"Well, I sent a message saying that something had come up, and left before the break of dawn the next day. It was raining horribly, and I had to stop at the inn in Bywater before I was able to continue on. It was raining buckets I tell you!" she laughed, twirling away from the weaving blade of her aunt. "I was soaked to the bone, and decided that I needn't hurry to the little halflings home, seeing as I was a few days early."

"How did you like meeting Thorin? I know that I've told you about him, but he is much changed from the young dwarf lad that I knew so many years ago."

"I was nervous, he is my king after all, or at least in part. I had gotten their first before all of the dwarves, and sat in my shadowy corner watching them all. He was late, extremely so."

Thennil chuckled,"Got lost did he? He has never had a good sense of direction when it comes to traveling."

"You have that right! I just wish he would stop being a _Ci orch 'waur_ to me. He thinks that because I'm a woman that I'm weaker and unable to defend myself, that I can't pull my own weight," she grumbled, parring.

"He has had a long time to let his anger fester towards our race, he is only going to be a pain in the rear in that aspect. He people were left to die when the dragon came by King Thranduil, and so he holds a bitter grudge towards him, and a prejudice towards our whole race. I think that you will be the instrument in changing that perspective," Thennil commented, lunging forward beneath a swing from the girl.

"I hope he stops being an _orch_ sooner rather than later, I'm tired of him treating me like dirt and waiting for his approval." Her blade clashed heavily against her aunts again and again, anger coursing through her veins like a raging fire. Her shoulders and and biceps tensed with each blow, eyes flashing in frustration.

Smirking, Thennil read into the situation, guessing that her niece didn't just want his approval. Perhaps she couldn't understand her feelings towards the dwarf, her heart to young, but if she herself could predict the future, she had a feeling that their relationship would be legendary. Mariam did not entirely understand the customs among the dwarves in regards to their women. Women among the dwarrow were seen as priceless jewels, more valuable than any amount of gold or jems because there were so few of them. In fact, when a dwarrowdam gave birth to a daughter, it was considered a great honor, and a new bead would be added to her beard proclaiming the feat. They rarely were seem outside their dwellings at all, sequestered away for protection. Seldomly did they ever participate in battle, though their time in exile had changed some of the traditions, causing many of the young women to take up arms to learn to protect themselves, though it seldomly came to that. Perhaps her niece would be changing those views among these dwarves, showing them that though women needed to be protected, they could still fight.

It was a puzzlement to her how she had been roped into hunting down a doe and raiding the kitchens for whatever meat and cheese could be found for the dwarves. They had suffered through the meals of greens for over a day, and were ravenous for any form of meat that they could get their hands on. Even more shocking was the fact that she didn't flinch when she had come back to find that they had started a fire with the furniture in their rooms that was centuries old. She had gutted and butchered the deer, and they had taken pieces of it along with the sausages and other meats she had found, and roasting them over the open blaze in their pavilion outside their rooms. The smell was mouth watering, the fats dripping into the fire, sizzling in the heat. She wasn't one to indulge in meat often because of the customs and foods that were eaten among her people, but she did enjoy a good haunch of venison every now and them, covered in a rich gravy. The dwarves sat in a hap-hazard circle around the blaze, enjoying it's warmth as they spoke. They huddled in their groups, in twos and threes, laughing at the jokes of their comrades.

"Bomber!" Cried a hatted dwarf with a mustache, tossing a sausage at the engorged dwarf sitting atop a groaning table.

Looking up just in time, the dwarf snatched the sausage out of their air, glaring reproachfully at the dwarf. Food was not to be wasted. They he laughed, a creaking noise reverberated from beneath him, the table legs whining laboriously. With a loud _SNAP_ the table broke, sending the dwarf plummeting to the ground shrieking as he flailed. The food he had surrounded himself with rolled off in all directions; some of the dwarves snatched it up, stuffing it in their mouths, laughing uproariously.

From her perch on the railing, she watched the proceedings with a bemused smile on her lips. In one hand she held a piece of venison, cool enough to eat now, and in the other she held a pint of ale. That had been a great find, the dwarves not having a taste for the refined wines that her father served in his halls. She had enjoyed watching from the edge of the group, seeing how they acted and spoke with one another. Often she had seen her niece stealing looks and throwing piercing glares at the dwarf King from her seat between his two nephews, their heads together. And she wasn't the only one doing so, Thorin was doing his own bit of subtly peeks from under his dark brows, blue eyes slicing across the open area. His eyes lingered on her golden hair and laughing eyes, then trailing down to her hands. They was a softness about them, but as he knew by his sneaking around that morning, they would be able to handle a blade without a problem. For a moment she thought that she had seen a glimpse of admiration in the raging ocean of his eyes, but it was gone when she blinked. He grimaced in the direction of her niece when she talked to the other dwarves, specifically his nephews; she had become quite comfortable among his kin, even cracking a smile and a low chuckled from stern, watchful Dwalin.

Steadily as the night wore on, the dwarves settled into their seats, accustom to the hard ground beneath them. Tales of every sort filtered over the dying flames of the fire, some merry, others gloomy, a few about love, others about battles. Many of the dwarves called for her to tell stories about her times traveling with them and before. She rallied them with her tales of victories from her time in the battles with the Witch King, made them laugh with stories of Mariam's childhood, much to the utter embarrassment of the young lady, and told of the settling of Ered Luin.

The night grew, and so did the stories. The stars shown down from the heavens like glittering diamond upon a blanket of black velvet. At one time or another the dwarves drew out instruments, flutes, fiddles, a viol, a drum, and a fiddle played by both Fili and Kili. The tunes swung between merry and solemn, fast and slow, merry and sweet. As the dwarves began yet another song, Bofur jumped up from the floor, laughing, and started to dance a jig. It was a merry tune, one that had a quick beat to it that a person could clap or stomp to. Before long, the dwarf had started to sing.

"There is an inn, there is an inn, a merry old inn,

beneath an old grey hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown

That the Man on the Moon himself came down

One night to drink his fill.

The Ostler had a tipsy cat

That plays a five stringed fiddle;

And up and down he runs his bow,

Now squeaking high, now purring low,

Now sawing in the middle."

Here, from the shadows of the hall crept a small form. Walking amid the darkness, he went unseen by those he watched, small feet barely making a noise on the hard stones beneath his feet. His dark hair hung in front of his curious blue eyes, scanning those seated for a familiar face. Dressed in his dark silk sleeping clothes, the boy settled down among the remainder of the furniture that was left in the room, hiding from the eyes of its occupants.

"The landlord keeps a little dog

that is mighty fond of jokes;

When there's good cheer among the guests,

He cocks an ear at all the jests

And laughs until he chokes.

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle

a jig to wake the dead;

He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,

While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:

'It's after three!' he said."

The dwarves clapped uproariously, stomping their feet and leaning back laughing. Some took pieces of food from their plates and threw it at the bowing dwarf, laughing more when some of it slid down the back of his shirt, causing him to jig in hopes of getting it out. This soon turned into a food fight, rolls and other dry foods bouncing off those whom they hit, the slimier foods, like the meat or the mashed potatoes she had found in the kitchens still warm, hit with a _Plop._ Mariam grabbed a handful of the potatoes, covered in runny gravy, and slung it at Fili, who was across the room, but he ducked. The mash continued it's aerial journey, smacking into the stern face of Thorin. Her face paled, and the room went silent besides the crackling of the chair legs on the fire. Her golden eyes widened, as his hand slowly went up to wipe the white paste from his eyes, glaring across the room at the group. Fill and Kili exchanged knowing smirks, and grabbing a handful of any of the food closest to them, hurled it at their uncle, eyes twinkling merrily. One splatted onto his vest, a bright greasy stain marking the spot as the meat slid to the floor; the other landed in his dark hair, causing him to shudder as it slid down his shirt. Eyes narrowing, the dwarf king reached down and tossed a bowl full of some sort of beans at the group, smiling darkly. Squealing, they ran in all directions away from the mess. By the time they all looked up, the king was gone.

It took them but a few moments to clean up their messes and settle down, taking out their instruments again. Balin had sat in his corner, smoking his pipe, observing the whole ordeal with laughing eyes crinkled up at the edges into many lines. He had noticed the small dark head pop up from it's hiding place behind the furniture, curious about the short little men tossing food around. He was doing it again at this moment, peering over the edge of a large end table.

"It seems we have a visitor," his warm voice spoke into the red glow of the fire. The boys eyes widened, and he shrank back down behind his table, covering his head.

"Come lad, we don't bite, or at least most of us don't," he chuckled, leaning forwards.

Slinking up from his spot, he crept into the circle of dwarves, searching their faces. Finally, he looked up into the white haired dwarf's face, his eyes piercing the shadows around him, refusing to say a word. He did another once over on the room, and sighed dismally.

Licking his lips, his eyes came back to those of the kind bearded dwarf,"I heard your music, then the singing. I followed it here hoping that-that-

He looked down at the ground, toeing it with his small foot.

"That what, boy?" Dwalin snapped gruffly. They boy jumped, twisting around to look fearfully at the dwarf.

"That Thennil would be here," he whispered, backing up towards the exit, acting like a caged animal as the dwarves seemed to close in on him.

Hurrying from her perch, she rushed to him, seeing him relax visibly when his eyes landed on her. She knelt before him, taking his hands in hers.

"What is it, Penneth?" she asked softly, pushing a strand of his wild hair behind an ear.

"You weren't there when Naneth put me to bed," he mumbled, face flushing at the admission,"You didn't sing to me."

She smiled, caressing his small soft face,"Aye, I didn't. But you should be in bed, not wandering the halls."

"Please," he begged, eyes growing watery.

"Oh, just sing, Aunty," Mariam ordered,"It's been so long since I've heard to you, I wouldn't mind listening."

The other dwarves nodded in agreement.

"Alright, but forgive me if I sound like a dying duck," she chuckled, drawing the boy into her lap. He cuddled up to her, settling his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

Looking up into the night sky, she watched the stars twinkle in the night, so bright, so beautiful.

"When you're all alone

Far away from home  
There's a gift the angel sent  
When you're alone

Everyday must end  
But the night's our friend  
Angels always send a star  
When you're alone

At night when I'm alone  
I lie awake and wonder  
Which of them belongs to me  
Which one I wonder?

And any star I choose  
Watches over me  
So I know I'm not alone  
When I'm here on my own

Isn't that a wonder?  
When you're alone  
You're not alone  
Not really alone

The stars are all my friends  
Till the night time ends  
So I know I'm not alone  
When I'm here on my own

Isn't that a wonder?  
When you're alone  
You're not alone

Not really alone."

Looking down at the lad in her arms, she jostled her arm gently. His head lolled against her shoulder, body limp with sleep. She slipped her arm under his legs, she cradled him in her arms, and stood from her place. The dwarves parted as she tread to the door, humming the song. The halls wandered by as she made her way to the boys room, opening the door with her hand, careful not to stir his slumbering form. Laying him upon his bed, she drew up the covers to his chin, leaning down to kiss his ruffled head.

"Sleep well, _Nin Meleth."_

 **Hope you enjoy this, the muse was being a pain. She had way to many ideas that she wanted to put down for this chapter, but alas, it had to be limited to a few.**

 **I have only gotten a few responses to the question that I put to you all at the end of chapter 16. I will probably not post another chapter until I get a least two more responses to that question, and two more reviews, from one new person and one of you have been following this story.**

 **So please, Review! :)**

 *******Update*******

 **As of 6/16/17 only one new person has reviewed, and one person has answered the question posted in chapter 16. I have my whole next chapter written up, I'm just waiting for the other people. So please review and message me about who you think Thennil will end up with. **

**Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	21. Chapter 20

**So, I'm giving this to you because I can't wait to post it, but I still would like to hear from all of you. Enjoy!**

"Estel, raise the blade higher, I'm likely to chop off your head off with you holding it like that," Mariam huffed, using the tip of her own sword to raise the boys blade up higher.

"I'm trying, Mariam!" He groaned, moving his arms to accommodate the weight once again.

"What in the world have the twins been teaching you?" she asked, using her hand now to guide his feet into the proper position, he was wiggling so.

"Stances, how to hold the blade, posture, and lunging," he mumbled, copying her movements as close as he could.

"Some teaching they're doing, your stance is sloppy, your feet at the wrong angle-Stop holding your blade like that!" she growled, though it held no real venom in her voice. She glared at the duo who dueled not far away, their ears perking up at the mention of them.

"I think we did a fair job teaching him the basics, Mari," Elladan stated, disengaging from the duel and sauntering over to her.

"Yeah, whatever?" she laughed, pretending to be concerned with her hair, which was tied back into a thick braid, twirling the ends, imitating him.

He scowled at her,"I do not look like that."

"Yes you do!" the three said, lifting their eyebrows.

"There's nothing wrong with taking care of my appearance so I don't look like a vagabond and thief," brushing a tangle from his hair with his long black fingers, in his minds eye he could see one person who fit those descriptions.

They all lifted their eyebrows and then squinted in puzzlement.

"You are quite vain, you know that right Elladan?"

Elladan twisted to look at the lithe figure of his sister stepping into the yard, her hair swishing behind her like a copper cape. Her eyes on the edge twinkled with amusement, but deep within their depths was a pain. He pushed down the shame that crept up, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

"It's not vain if I'm taking care of myself, making sure I'm presentable, unlike some people," his words stinging like a barb.

The three exchanged looks of annoyance. Elladan was known to let his mouth run away with him, causing most of the situations they got into as children. Estel glared at the elf, his fist clenching and unclenching at his sides, and the one around his blunt sword squeezing it till his knuckles were white. Eyes growing stormy, they flashed with anger. Sheathing his sword, he balled up his fists, he charged.

Elladan stumbled backwards, totally unaware of the boy barreling towards him seconds before, tripped over his feet and went sprawling to the ground. Fists began to pummel his chest, strong for ones so small. The boy had a mean right hook, and swung his fist, smashing it into his brothers face with a vengeance. One slammed into his defined nose, a nasty crunching noise echoed through the field, another smacked into his high cheek bone, a bruise quickly forming. The elf was in total shock of the energy and anger radiating from the small boy as his small fists wreaked havoc upon his fair face, he tried to squirm out from under the flailing limbs of the lad, but to no avail.

Thennil and the other's were frozen in shock at Estels actions, where had this come from. The trio shook the stupor from their arms, and rushed to the boy, trying to grab ahold of his swinging arms. They dodged his battering arms, they

"Thennil-smack-does-schwap-not-throkk-dress like-whomp-or look like-smash-like a vagabond!" he cried in fury, hitting his brother in the face or upper body, his eyes stoney.

Yanking at the underarms of the youth, she wrenched him from atop of Elladan, who shakily climbed to his feet. Estel's arms and legs thrashed violently, wiggling and writhing in her arms in attempts to get back at the elf. His attempts were filled with a strength that she had never seen from him, a violence that seemed to bubble up from deep within. Giving him a small shake, she tried to get through to him, but he continued to struggle, eyes alight with a vicious fire. After he had calmed down enough for her to set him on the ground and have him not charge Elladan, she turned to crouch before him. Smoothing a lock of hair behind his ear, she looked into his eyes, searching.

"What has gotten into you, penneth?" she asked, taking his hands.

"He-People..." he mumbled so softly that even her superior hearing couldn't pick up his words.

"Hmm? what was that?" lifting his chin up with her long finger so see his eyes.

He squirmed under her piercing gaze, avoiding her eyes.

"Don't be afraid to speak you thoughts, Estel, even if they are not pleasant ones or something that we want to hear."

He toed the ground and fiddled with the hem of his tunic,"People think that you're strange, that there is more of your father's blood in you, that you are more like men. You venture out more than the normal elf does, seeking adventure, helping people that are not your own. You're an outsider, an outcast among them. They gossip about you, what you do, whispering in corners of the market or behind their hands."

"I do venture out more than normal, but there are still others that do the same."

"Yeah, but they think that you have a lover or something of the sort."

She laughed, though there was a sadness as it rang out,"Seriously? They think that I have a lover? Of what kind I wonder."

He chuckled,"I couldn't imagine you having a lover, or being married, you do love to go on patrols and go trampling around Arda."

She peered down at him, the light in her eyes dying,"Aye, I suppose not."

He looked up at her, noticing that her countenance had changed. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Nay, penneth, merely thinking about what could have been if the Valar had blessed me," she said, squeezing the shoulder.

"You're always alone," he said, it was as if they were the only two in the training field,"I've asked Ada why you never married, and he said it was because you had not found your other half."

"There have been a few who have wanted my hand, but once they learned that I would not give up my wandering and settle down they soon disappeared."

"Isn't that lonely?"

"I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone, and it's not totally. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone-she looked up into his conflicted azure eyes-but I have you, my family, Mariam, and a few others who I hold close. I am not alone." _Not yet._

Flinging his arms around her neck, he whispered in her ear,"I'll never leave you, Thennil.

She hugged him tightly, savoring the feeling. She felt his arms tighten around her neck, and his nose brushed against her hair. She smiled sadly, knowing that someday he would grow up, learn who he truly was, and leave her. She tried to push it out of her mind, knowing that the day would come sooner than she wanted it to, men aging and maturing at a different rate than her people. He would spread his wings and fly away, forgetting about his little promises. Nothing lasted forever.

Sitting on a bench, she observed the dwarves spar. Thorin had deemed it necessary for them to keep up their strength and awareness even while in a peaceful valley, and so they had commenced their practice outside the city in a small clearing that Mariam had suggested when asked. At the moment Thorin and herself circled in the middle of the clearing, testing each other's strength. She had goaded him on, teasing him about not being able to best her and her training. He had smirked, knowing what she did not. Her moves were similar to Thennil's, and as the elf had trained him once upon a time, he was able to put up a good fight, parring and going on the defense, letting her tire herself out with her onslaught of blows. Thennil had to chuckle when she say the light go on in her nieces head, and she took a few steps back, waiting for Thorin to advance on her. Their swords rang through the glen, the air so tense that one could cut it with a knife. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as the two battled it out, panting like dogs. Indeed one could liken them to wolves, they were so vicious in their blows and lunges. Sweat beaded upon their foreheads, dripping into their eyes if they didn't wipe it away quick enough.

Knowing that is could take them a few seconds to almost an hour to finish, or finally come to a draw seeing as they were pretty equally matched, she rose from her seat. She plucked the basket of mending from the ground, she made her way through the trees, enjoying the fresh air. Even enjoying the silence as she was, deep down she knew that something stirred, something evil was bubbling up to the surface. She could feel it in the wind, sense it in the trees, and see it in the sky. A storm was coming, a few days out, but it was coming. Slipping into the house, she laid her basket inside the sitting room of her families quarters. Along the hallway she wandered, hands trailing over the detailed woodwork, feeling each and every etch and divot.

Blinking, a dizziness came over her. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes, puzzling over the feeling. She opened her eyes, and found herself amidst one of her visions. This time she stood within the belly of a stone fortress. Strangely enough, within this vision she was able to move, much like she could in her dreams. She lingered in the halls, tip-toeing around the corners and listening for any noises. She came across a few shorter people, and recognized them as dwarves. They were dressed in chain mail, and looked to be some kind of guards. One path through the stonework seemed to pull at her, beckoning her to travel down it's walkway. Following the pull, she came through an archway; forced to shield her eyes from the bright light, she blinked.

Stepping further into the bright cavern, she realized that it was a sort of inside garden. Turning round and round, she gazed up, seeking the source of the sunlight. Further up she could see opening in the mountain, an large mirrors mounted on the stone walls, reflecting it down into the cavern. There were many of them, illuminating every corner. Looking to the ground, she realized that there were just as many kinds of flowers here as in her own garden at home. Every color under the rainbow and shape under the sun seemed to occupy the beds. Here and there she saw patches of herbs that could be used for cooking or medicinal purposes. A fountain rose up in the middle of the garden, laughing much like a brook as it splashed down into the basin below merrily. It was amazing.

Joining the laughter of the fountain came a audible, childish giggle, echoing against the stones.

"I'm going to get you nana!" a boyish voice laughed across the cavern as a bright headed child skipped across the beds of flowers, seeking to hide among the foliage.

"If you can find me!" the girl laughed, ducking beneath a statue.

Creeping closer, she took in the two children as the boy rushed around the fountain. His dark hair flying out behind him and his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. He searched among the bushes, beneath the taller flowers, and finally behind the statue. Jumping out, he tackled his sister and they went rolling down in a heap, laughing. Struggling up from the dirt, the boy brushed himself off before reaching down to help the small girl to her own feet.

Turning, they looked at her, and shouted, "Irak'amad!"

Blinking again, she found herself leaning against the wall back in her home. These visions disturbed her, and had been becoming more and more frequent as time went on. Steadying herself, she continued down the hall to her bedroom. She would have to talk to her grandmother about them, and hoped that she would be able to get some clarification on why she was having them. This vision had made no sense, confusing her.

Trailing behind her father and Mithrandir, she listened intently to their conversation. She had known that something was going on that they were not telling her. She could feel the darkness growing, and evil creep nearer. Mariam had been close lipped when she had asked where the dwarves and herself were going, saying that she had given her word to not say anything about it. She had always been good at finding the information that she wanted from people by listening, and so she had. She knew that the dwarves were going on a quest, one to retake the mountain from the dragon. She also knew that her niece was going to play some important part in what transpired, though she didn't know how. Her ears perked up as her father spoke.

"Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father surcumed to the same sickness. Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not do the same, and fall? Even sending the half-dwarven with them might not change the outcome. Mithrandir, these decisions do not rest with just you or I alone. It is not up to use to redraw the map of Middle Earth."

The duo continued walking along the hallways, deep in thought. As they walked up a marble staircase Mithrandir turned to Elrond, a pensive look on his face.

"With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he's answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I."

"It is not me that you must answer to," her father said, nodding to the pavilion. Withdrawing from the bright light, she watched as her grandmother turned to look at the wizard and her father. Her gown trailed far behind her a silvery grey. Her long golden hair fell softly down her back, and her cornett sat regally on her head, gleaming in the moonlight.

"Lady Galadriel." Mithrandir greeted, bowing.

"Mithrandir," her grandmother nodded to him,"It has been a long time."

"Age may have changed me, but not so the Lady of Lorien," he said. Thennil stifled a snort. She knew that Mithrandir had had some fascination with her grandmother, but having him butter her up with complements could almost be called laughable.

"I had no idea that Lord Elrond had sent for you," he continued, her grandmother merely smiled.

A voice sounded from the far corner, shadowed in darkness, "He did not. I did."

She shuddered from her hiding place, and tried not to spit on the ground at the voice of the wizard that she despised.

"Saruman."

"You've been busy of late, my friend." the white wizard stated, gripping his staff.

The council spoke of many things, ranging from the mundane to the important. Saruman questions them about different things, pestering them for information. From her seat, Thennil glared at the wizard. She was frustrated that she had not been called to this council, not that she could have stood all the derogatory comments from the white wizard. She probably would have blown up in his face by now in anger. He had liken her Caranthir, one of the sons of Feanor, known for his violent temper, at one point because she had a temper similar. She had retorted that it was merely his presence that brought out her anger, but he had disregarded her like all the other times.

The dawn was not far away when Saruman spoke again to Mithrandir. "So, Tell me, Gandalf. Did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?"

Mithrandir clasped and unclasped his hands, looking this way and that,"Unnoticed? No, I'm simply doing what I feel to be right."

Turning from the coming dawn, Galaridel looked to the grey wizard,"The dragon. It has long been on your mind."

He nodded,"It is true, my lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no one-here he leaned forward, looking intently at the others- But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."

He continued,"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind to it, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it Mirkwood, and they say..."

"Gandalf the enemy is defeated, Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength again."

"Mithrandir, for four hundred years we have had peace. A hard one, watchful peace." her father reminded him, though he did not seem all to sure of himself in Thennil's eyes. She knew her father's ticks, his shows. He was merely trying to be agreeable while stating what was the obvious.

"Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains, they are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road. Ask your daughter, she knows, she has seen it!" the wizard asked, his voice growing hard.

"Hardly a prelude to war."

"Always you must meddle," the white wizard groused,"looking for trouble where there is none."

 _What do you know, wizard?_ she hissed internally. She had seen the destruction that her friend spoke of, it was appalling.

"Let him speak."

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind to it, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it Mirkwood, and they say, they say..." he puttered off, unsure of how to bring it to light.

"Well now, tell us what the woodsmen say?" the white wizard seemed to mock.

"They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur, a sorcerer who can summon the dead."

She inhaled, covering her mouth with her hand. Just the name made her hair stand on end, her pupils shrink with fear.

"That's absurd. No such power exists in the world. This...Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic." Saruman scoffed

She tuned out of the conversation as Gandalf mentions Radagast, the brown wizard. If the Necromancer was back, that meant that Sauran would not doubt be trying to gain a foothold in Middle Earth yet again after millennia. She remembered the many minions that he had sucked into his evil plans, though she had never been their, she knew that he had corrupted many a honorable person, Kings of old. How would they battle this? Fight against it to keep the peace? She was brought back out of her thoughts by her father's question.

"What is that?"

Mithrandir had set a package, wrapped in a leather cloth upon the round table. Fingering the edge of the cloth he looked down at it. Her father reached towards it, about to unwrap it when her grandmother answered.

"A relic of Mordor."

He withdrew his hand, shuddering. Reaching forward again, he snapped back the fabric, revealing a black blade. "A morgue blade."

She began to shake, and her hand reached up to the slash across her chest, remembering just such a blade that had pierced her skin. She paled as her grandmother spoke, fear in her voice.

"Made for the Witch king of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it within the High Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

"This is not possible," her father stated, reliving his own memories of the king, and the near death of his daughter. He could still see her lying on the bed, paler than even the snow white sheets that had covered her body, the darkness reaching towards her heart. He still thanked the Valar for returning her to him, almost unchanged, unsullied by the deep evil that had tried to draw the life, and light, out of her. "A powerful spell lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."

She could almost hear Saruman's thoughts as he looked at the blade. Leaping silently up from her spot, she raced through the house, knowing that time was of the essence. The night before she had warned Thorin that he should be ready to leave at a moments notice, and to have their packs ready and full. Such was it. Rushing into the room, she found that the dwarves were already beginning to strap on their packs.

"We must hurry, they wish to stop you!" she stated, her voice but a loud whisper.

"Up, move!" Thorn growled, tugging on his pack.

"I know a quick path up into the mountains, one that they will not think to check as they will think you are still asleep!" she said, leading them as silently as possible down the halls.

They travelled quickly. She knew that the wizard would try to stop them, but it would take him time to find them with his magic, one that she blocked with her own power. Mariam was the second to last in the long line traipsing up the ridge away from their home. She gave it one longing look before turning to the mountains. Bilbo was more hesitant, his heart wishing to stay in this place forever. Counting the dwarves, Thennil nodded a goodbye to each one before turning to Thorin.

"Take care of her," her voice was deadly,"If something happens to her I will not be responsible for my actions.'

"She joined this quest of her own violation, and free will, she is not my responsibility," he narrowed his eyes, though she could see a shadow of concern as his sapphire orbs flicked to her niece.

"It matters not," she hissed, and then turned to engulf the young woman in a tight hug

"Stay safe, and guard your heart," she whispered.

"I'll try," the woman laughed, eyes twinkling merrily,"I'm sure that you're going to be in a heap of trouble for helping us."

"Nothing that I can't handle," she chuckled.

"I love you."

"And I you, penneth. Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham!" she said, watching the long line of dwarves disappear over the mountain.

 **Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think. I might not be able to post again for the next week and a half, so please hang on.**

 **Also, the muse really needs reviews, she's kind of dying over here. No pressure. ;)**

 **Robin**


	22. Chapter 21

Sneaking back into the house, she found wondered towards the pavilion. Catching the sound of voices, she listened in to the conversation, ears blocking out the other excess noise that came with living in a city of elves. It was her Grandmother and Gandalf speaking.

"Why the half-dwarven and the halflingl?" her grandmother's liquid like voice asked. She too had wondered at this choice, particularly that of the hobbit. She could understand her niece, who was an accomplished warrior in her own right, but the hobbit? She had seen that hobbits were very resilient and soft on their feet. Most of the time she would say that they could be as quiet as her people. She had seen glimpses of Bilbo as a child and a youth, he seemed better suited to a armchair and a library full of books to read. Perhaps she was reading to much into the situation, having only seen the hobbit, unlike Gandalf who was apart of moments of his life as a child.

"Mariam?"

"Yes."

"Well, she gives me hope, knowing that she could be the change of the tide, that small drop that causes the watcher to ripple. Affecting everything around it."

"And the halfling?"

"I do not know, Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I have found that it is small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Mariam? Hope, that is why. And Bilbo? Perhaps, because with hope, you have to have the courage, the perseverance, to believe that it will happen. Perhaps it is because I am afraid, though I hope, and he gives me courage." he sighed, his shoulders slumping wearily.

"You are not alone, mellonin." her grandmother took his wrinkled hands in hers.

He nodded, and continued to walk down the hall, beard swaying with each step. His grey cloak billowed in the light breeze as his staff clicked on the marble floor. Her grandmother turned to the dawn, watching the sun rise over the crest of the hill, ascending higher into the sky. She swept her hand through her hair, trailing her fingers down to the bottom, a contemplative look on her face. From her spot behind one of the many pillars, Thennil could see the slight grin on the elf's face, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

"I know that you are there," the soothing voice stated, not turning around.

Slipping out from her hiding place, she advanced to stand beside the ancient elf, her eyes not straying from the sun. Her hair fluttered in the breeze, rippled behind her like a cape, glowing in the light. Her face was emotionless, but within there was a battle raging.

"You are trouble, siel," her grandmother stated, turning to look closely at her.

"How is Arwen been in these past years?"

"She has found a peace among the trees, one that she has not been able to find in her father's house for some time. But that is not what you have sought to hear from me. Tell me your troubles, child."

"I have been having dreams? Visions?"

"Hmm..."

"Well, they've been happening for a long time, a few centuries. And most of them come true."

"I would say you have your father's gift of foresight," her grandmother said, running her hand over the copper tresses.

"But why? Why have I been given this gift? It plagues me, especially when I don't understand what the dreams are of." she stressed, picking at her fingers.

Her grandmother did not say anything for a few minutes, the two of them basking in the sunlight in silence. Their beauty surpassed all that their people had known except for the first morning star, Luthien, but the younger in a truer sense. While Luthien was known for her dark hair, fascinating grey eyes, and her darker clothing, Thennil was ever the opposite, coming closer to the description of a morning star. Copper hair, pale skin, and sapphire blue eyes, her appearance was indeed closer to the description of the morning. But it was her continence, her personality, which seemed to shine the most light. Though she had her times of solemness, and sadness, she was overall a very bright, happy person if someone got close enough to know her. She was a bright light, a new shinning star.

"I do not know why the Valar have gifted you with something similar to that of your father, but everything that they do has a purpose. It will stretch you, the knowledge that you glean from these visions," her grandmother said, the sunlight making her glow.

"What if I don't want to be stretched? Haven't I endured enough already, and now I have to have this knowledge thrust upon me?" she asked, throwing her hands in the air.

"Tell me, what did you see?" her grandmother ignored her questions, her eyes creasing in amusement at her frustration.

She huffed, but went on to tell her vision,"I was in a fortress, a stone one. The walls were etched and sculpted with interact designs that reminded me of the ones that Tirlim and Miluiel had on their cottage. The there was a garden, deep within the rock, with flowers of ever color, a fountain in the midst of them. Light filtered down from above, I know not from where it came from. Then two children, one dark headed, the other a blonde color, playing amiss the leaves and blossoms. I felt as if I knew them, somehow. They called me something, but I don't know what it was, it was nothing that I know from any of the languages that I have learned. The I was back here in Imladris."

Her grandmother was silent again, and she could see her thinking about the words she had spoken.

"Who were the children? Where was it that they lived? What was the reason for the strange feeling that I got? Why? Why was I given this?" she begged. She didn't understand, wanted to know the reason. Was there a way to stop these visions? They did plague her, mostly the not knowing part; it unsettled her, knowing that she was seeing a possible future, but not being able to know whose. Was is her own? Someone she knew? Or someone that she would come to know? What was the purpose if she couldn't do anything about it?

"Have you thought about your past excursions? The dreams that you've had? Did any of them look familiar to this one?"

She paused in her internal musings, and looked at her grandmother. Running through her previous visions, she tried to link different things together. Flashes of stone, green in color with ornate sculpted designs, pillars, the smell of foliage flicked through her minds eye. She delved deeper, sifting through the images that she pulled from the depths of her memory, looking at every detail, every speck of dust, every blade of grass and pebble.

Inhaling sharply, she pulled back through the memories. The images rushed by her, flashes of the past, colors swirling into a single spiral, bringing her back to the present time and place she stood. Shaking, she reached out and leaned on the railing for support, closing her eyes as the comforting hand of her grandmother rubbed circles on her back with one hand. Breath coming in short gasps, she squeezed the railing, causing her knuckles to grow white with the tension. Opening her dazed blue orbs, she took in her surroundings, blinked again, and turned her head to look her grandmother in the eye.

"I was Erebor, the mountain," she whispered, though she had never seen the part of the mountain that she had dreamed of.

"Ummhmmm."

"But, why the mountain? Why now?" she asked, looking out over the ridges that lined the valley as if she could find the answer there.

"Have you not helped the company who was here leave Imladris this very day? Did you not think about what they intend to do? Their mission, their quest?" her grandmother questioned, her voice growing in sternness.

"I-I have, but not that far into the future."

"The children, did they not remind you of someone, someone who you know?"

"I don't k- she choked, eyes watering as she realized who, or rather whom, she had seen within the two children. "It cannot be! She doesn't-He would never-"

"Yet you have seen the love that grows within each of them for the other, even though they deny any feelings of affection that they hold. If they succeed in taking the mountain back, I have no doubts that they will end up together like in your dream."

"And if she does fall for him, and they do not take back the mountain, and he dies?" she argued, the mortality of her niece fully dawning on her,"She will either fade and die, or I will have to send her to the undying lands. I do not know if my heart could survive that all over again, I have already lost that which I held dear to my heart. I shall be left all alone."

She turned to her grandmother, leaning on her strength. "You will not be alone, penneth, we are here."

"Yes, but for how much longer? I know that sometime within the future you will be called to the sea, and will want to sail, but I have never felt its call, nor do I think I ever will." she whispered the last part.

"Perhaps the Valar have something else in mind for you," her grandmother said, a glassy look coming over her eyes.

"Perhaps, perhaps."

Waiting was always the worst, even if time passes quickly for an elf. She had lived among those who were mortal for the longest time, and had gotten used to the slowness of time that mortals felt. Every day she would look up at the wall, seeing the date, and knowing that another day had dawned, but feeling like time was slowing down with every second. She spent her time training in the fields, riding her horse, going on a few patrols with her brothers, and visiting Halbarad of the Dunedain and the other rangers along the edges of the Shire. She told them of the progress and growth of their chieftain, what he had learned on the training field, and the many antics that he would get into with her brothers. Trying to occupy her time was difficult, especially when she felt the pull towards the East. Some days the call was so strong, that she felt that if she did not go she might diminish if she did not respond.

Each day that passed she waited for news of the company. After nearly a month, she had received one of the great eagles of the Misty Mountains, a relation to the King of the Eagles, who told her that they had rescued the company from a band of orcs and goblins at the eastern edge of the mountains. They had delivered them to the Carrack at the beginning of July. She had thanked the eagle, providing gifts of fresh meat for it to enjoy, and sent a message of thanks to the King for his graciousness to her friends.

Sitting around the camp fire with the other rangers along the edges of the river Hoarwell, north of Imladris, near the Coldfells. They had been checking over the small settlements of Dunedain that lay hidden among the mountains and in the hills to the west, scouting. She had noticed a lot of orc and goblin traffic in the mountains, all heading east. It made her blood run cold, knowing that they might be traveling to join the horde that Azog had slowly been amassing these past few years. She and her brother's had investigated it and taken out a few of the smaller herds that had amassed, taking a prisoner here and there in attempts to get any form of information from the beasts about the movements of their leaders. Nothing had come of it. A forbidding feeling had been growing in her gut for many a night, and the wind blew cold over the hills. She had felt the darkness rising, a great, unseen cloud hanging over the east of middle earth like a storm ready to break over the cliffs by the sea.

Twirling stick between her fingers, she starred into the fire, thoughts elsewhere. Images of her niece played through her mind, from her infant hood through becoming an independent adult. Each one was more precious than the last. Then, her eyes blurred as a few tears clouded her vision. She was taken again, a battlefield exploded into her vision, full of blood and gore, bodies strew across the ground like a girls dolls across her floor, limbs flung in every direction. She could smell the blood, taste it's coppery flavor in her mouth, and feel the stickiness of it between her fingers as she gripped something in her hands. Then she was not on the valley floor, but up above on a flat area of ground, covered in snow and ice, the cold wind whipping at her face, stinging her eyes and making her ears go numb. Looking about she blinked, then before her lay the disfigured body of Thorin's nephew Fili, blood leaking out from a nasty wound in his chest, his eyes open and unblinking, staring deadly up at the grey clouds. Blinking a second time she found herself before a battered and bruised Kili, a cheeky smirk on his twisted lips, his eyes closed, blood littered there ground around him, one of his arms looked like it was barely attached to his torso, his bow was yards from him, broken, the strings snapped. Shaken form the images of the two princes laying dead at her feet, she didn't dare blink again, afraid of what she would see. This time, the vision did not allow her a choice, pulling her away from the young princes body, as if she was traveling backwards through a tunnel, then shoved to her knees on the ground.

Before her lay two forms, wrapped within each other's arms, eyes open and watching, as if they had been waiting for death to take them. Each was littered with a ray of wounds, their bodies slick with their own and each other's blood. The golden hair was matted with blood, sticking to Mariam's temple, and falling in knots down her back, some of it was entwined with the darker locks of the dwarf next to her. Their eyes, while they had been waiting for the final blow, had locked onto one another, and his hand cupped her face, stiff and cold, blood dried into the creases of his fingers. Her own clutched at his mail, as if trying to keep him with her.

"Thennil."

"Thennil?"

"Thennil?!"

"Thennil!" Someone shook her, and she blinked away the horrific scene, staring up into the eye of her friend, Abelard.

"What?" she asked.

"I called your name, and you weren't answering me," he said, then noticing her troubled eyes, asked,"What is it?"

"Something is going to happen, something that I have to stop," she said, leaping from her seat, casting her eyes around the fire.

"Where are you going?" they asked, as she gathered up her weapons and strapped them to her back.

"To the Lonely Mountain."

"That's across the Misty Mountains? It will take you a month or more to get there, why this sudden need?" Argoth asked, picking up some of their dried food and tossing it to her.

"It's of utmost importance, and it's a good thing that it's only the end of Winterfilth, I'll have plenty of time to get there, even with my short deture to Imladris to pick up some items." she said, checking over her things, tossing this and that into her satchel.

"Here," Abelard threw a metallic object at her,"take this."

Snatching the thing out of the air, she turned it over, finding a oak tree entwined with ivy etched through the metal. It encased a circular stone of serpentine, and hung from a silver chain. She knew that this was a costly item, most likely a family heirloom, something that none of them would part with willingly.

"Why?" she asked, running her fingers over the metal of the pendent.

"You've been our strength, enduring through the hard times with our people, and you've protected us even when it could have cost you your life, why would we not want to gift something to you, to thank you?" Argoth asked, giving her a small bow.

"We see you as one of our own, one of our people."

"You are protecting our chieftain, our King," they stated, each bowing low to her.

She was immensely touched by their words, her heart tightening at the faith that they had in her. To have them put their trust in her meant everything to her, and she prayed that she would never let them down. "Thank you, Mellonin."

"Thank you, Cauma."

"Na lû e-govaned van," she said, placing a hand over her heart, then moving down and towards the trio, palm face up. They nodded, watching as she disappeared into the night, not a speck of dust raised at her departure.

Her throat tightened as she felt like she was choking. The weight of the darkness and evil that overshadowed the fortress of Dol Guldor was formidable, squeezing and sucking the light from the once great fortress. It pressed in on all sides, making her feel claustrophobic. She had felt the call of destress from the wizard when she was about to leave Imladris not three days ago, and was joined my her Grandmother in investigating what availed the wizard here within this doomed fortress. As they had neared the part of the Greenwood that housed the crumbling fortress, she had felt the darkness deepen, growing larger.

Trailing behind her grandmother with her bow drawn, she scanned the uneven row of battlements. The trees outside of the fortress had withered and twisted, loosing their leaves, their bark turning to a dark brown almost black, and sticky substances dripped from the limbs. A smell like that of rotting flesh and decay permiated the air, and a mist began to rise. Galadriel was capable of taking care of herself for the most part, but she would never forgive herself if they were caught unaware because of her doing, she doubted that her Grandfather would look kindly on her if something were to happen to his beloved wife. Nenya glittered and shown on her finger, the glow from it the only light in the dark shadows of the walls that surrounded them.

A clanging sound, then a rattle sounded through the twisted pathways, then a groans and cries of pain. Flying past her grandmother, and down one of the dark passages, she burst forth onto a dilapidated pavilion. Standing over a deep chasm in the stone was an orc, within his outstretched hand hung Mithrandir, fighting to breath as the orc shook him violently. She yelled, letting an arrow fly, hitting another orc that stood to one side watching. Tossing the wizard to the ground roughly the orc turned to face her, snarling.

"I come for Mithrandir," she stated, her gaze steady. Her growled at her.

Cocking her head to one side,"And I will leave with him."

He kicked the wizard out of the way as he stepped towards her.

"If you try to stop me, I will destroy you."

He howled and made to run at her, but in an instant Galadriel was in front of her raising her hand, while flicking her wrist. A shockwave of white power rolled through the air, expanding up and out around them in a flash of bright white light, killing the beast instantly.

Guarding the back of her grandmother, she watched for anymore orcs to come rushing out of the many passages that lead to this crumbling pavilion. Galadriel leaned down, hoisting the limp form of the wizard into her arms, dragging him through the rubble. Her ears remained sharp, listening to the strange silence that enveloped the fortress, dark and forbidding. Something was wrong, it shouldn't have been this easy, walking in, retreating the wizard, and walking back out. Treading softly through the corridors that had chunks of stone missing from the ceiling, down stairs that were merely mounds of broken stones, and under archways that looked like they could collapse at any moment, they waited with bated breath.

From the pit of the fortress, a voice spoke, deep and amorous,"Shre nazg golugranu kilmi-dudu."

The clouds that had been swirling around them grew darker, heavier. They grew in size, yet all was quite, like the calm before a violent storm.

"Omni kuzddurbagu gundum-ishi."

The wind snapped and swelled around them, whipping the long robes of her grandmother in all directions. It whistled through the cracks in the rocks, the noise growing louder and louder. Thunder rolled, across the sky a long bolt of lightning flashed as drops of rain began to fall to the ground. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, mentally finishing the poem.

"Nine for mortal men doomed to die," her grandmother gasped, voice shaking as out of the mist rose nine figures.

Slipping her bow over her shoulder she withdrew her sword, raising it in the air as she twisted each and every way looking at the figures as they advanced on them. Her grandmother stumbled back onto what had once been the statue set upon a pedestal, her limbs shaking. Thunder rolled around them as the nine closed in; it felt like the breath had been sucked from her lungs.

"You cannot fight the shadow, child. Even now your people fade. One light alone against the darkness," it mocked.

Her grandmother looked up, a defiant look coming into her eyes,"We are not alone."

From the passages came two figures, one dressed in white, the other in the armor or his people. Weapons were drawn as the mist rose.

"Are you in need of assistance, my Ladies?" the wizard asked, gazing around at the ghosts of the kings.

"You should have stayed dead." her father stated, rushing towards the Nazgul.

Darting forward under the blows meant to kill her, she struck out at the remaining Nazgul, her sword flashing. Dodging beneath a blow, she delivered one to her opponent, only to have him disappear and reappear in another spot. It was the same for her father and the wizard, using their weapons they fought off the dead kings, their blade and staff making small flashes of white light every time they connected with the Nazgul. In the background she could hear her grandmother coaxing Mithrandir back to life, but all seemed for naught as he slipped further and further away. Parring, she bumped into her father as he battled the ghosts, guarding his back.

"Help your grandmother," he cried over the fighting.

"There's to many, I won't leave you to fight them alone!" she replied, blocking a swing that would have taken their heads off.

"Go!"

Rolling out from under one of the swings, she sheathed her sword, withdrawing a dagger just to be safe, and fell to her knees next to her grandmother. Laying her hands on the wizards shoulders, she delved deep within herself, pulling the power that she had stored deep in her fea to the surface as she let it slip through her fingers into the wizards body in a copper light as her grandmother used her own magic. Kissing his head, the wizard gasped, choking as he inhaled the air he had been unable to breath.

"He is here," he gagged.

"Yes, the darkness has returned," her grandmother stated, the breath knocked out of her from bringing him back.

A voice began calling over the noise, and the sound of many small feet against the stone could be heard as a figure rode through the stones. Around one of the collapsed walls came Radagast and his sled of rabbits.

"Gandalf. Gandalf, climb on!" he beckoned.

Easing the wizard into the sled, she turned back to the weakened figure of her grandmother, lying on the ground gazing at the grey wizard.

"He is week. He cannot remain here-it is draining his life," the Lady gasped at the brown wizard as he situated Gandalf in the sled, turning to her granddaughter she looked deep into her eyes,"You must go with them, watch over the wizard."

She nodded,"We must go, quickly!"

Reaching forward, Gandalf grasped his friends arm,"Come with me, my Lady."

A look was passed between the two before Galadriel ripped her hand out of his grasp, turning to the darkness as he rode away. "Go!"

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review. The muse is working hard to get these out on time seeing as the facilitator is going to be out next week for wisdom teeth removal...**

 **Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	23. Chapter 22

Running alongside of the sled, she felt the change in the air. Power pulsed from behind them, beating like a steady heart. Sliding to a stop, the trio looked back from where they had departed, a blinding white light shooting up and into the sky, like a beacon. Not a few moments afterwards they saw a bright reddish light cross away and over the horizon. Looking to the the East, she realized now was not the time nor the place to discuss what they had seen. It would have to be saved for a later date, one which did not involve having to save the life of a wizard.

"Onward!" she cried picking up her pace, following after the wizards as they sped through the trees towards Rhosgobel.

As they travelled further and further away from the fortress, the trees began to come alive again. Their leaves were green and the death and decay that had surrounded Dol Guldor did not permeate the air as heavily. She could hear the trees speaking to one another, though their voices were tired and weary. There were creatures living amongst the roots of the giants, birds nested in the trees, and deer bound through the brush. Sunlight was able to penetrate here, filtering down through the leaves in a golden green color, splotching the forest floor in patches of light like a painter on a canvas.

Upon arriving in the clearing of Radagasts home, she slowed to a stop, taking deep breaths. Her legs ached only slightly, having the boundless energy of an elf, they had been running for some time. She adjusted her weapons, checking to see that they were all secured tightly against her frame. Gandalf rose quickly from his seat a top the sled, stumbling a little.

"I need a horse!" he cried, lurching towards the black stead tied to a tree at the other side of the clearing. He leaned forward heavily, his staff gone.

"What? Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To warn Erebor. They have no idea what is coming," he stopped, grabbing hold of the brown wizards shoulder, eyes filled with worry,"I saw them with my own eyes-rank upon ranks of Moria-orcs. You must summon our friends, bird and beast."

He stumbled again. Rushing to his side, Thennil whispered a few words sending golden trendles out and into his weary form.

"You need to rest, Mithrandir, you have spent your energies," she scolded, though their was a underlying fear in her tone. She could feel the small bit of energy leave her, causing her to waver herself a her body was unused to the expenditure of power. Her mind flashed to the picture of her niece that she kept in her mind, her smiling face, the a blood covered field, corpse piled up to the sky.

"The battle for the mountain is about to begin, you will not fault me for trying to prepare them for what is to come," he said, standing straighter.

"Nay, but to do so one must have the energy," she stated, slipping a piece of lembas into his hand.

"Yes, but I am not the only one. Many thanks, my Lady."

She scoffed,"I'm not so much of a lady, you know that my friend, but your welcome anyway."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'll be fine."

She whistled loudly, the sound echoing over the trees and across the plains. From deep in the forest came a responding whinny, and the sound of hooves against the leaves. Bursting through the bushes came a tall stallion, head held high, mane whipping in the breeze that he had created. Hûlon neighed joyously, coming to a stop before his mistress in a small cloud of dust and fallen leaves. She stroked his snout, running her hands through the forelock of his hair that fell over his forehead. Turning she looked over at the wizard as he mounted his stead.

"I shall join you, perhaps I can convince Thranduil to stay and help us in this battle to come," she said, swinging up onto Hûlon.

"Your assistance would be much appreciated," she chuckled, Gandalf had never liked having to deal with the arrogant king.

She could hear the sharpening of swords a mile off. The city was preparing for war, deteriorated as it was. It pained her to see it like this, falling apart at the seams when it had once flourished under the mountains shadow. To be brought down to this crumbled heap of rocks was heartbreaking. She could remember the faces of the people before Smaug had come, filled with cheer voices echoing off it's stone buildings, now they would undoubtedly be filled with fear She followed after Gandalf, weaving her way between the hills that led up to the broken archway of Dale. Oh Dale, a city oht food.f a thousand trades, merchants from distant lands, kites flying above the highest turrets on the walls. The noise of children laughing, people chatting, the colors of the festivals that had once been held in its streets, all of it had been diminished to a pile of debris by dragon and time. Galloping into the town behind the wizard, she watched all the people scrabble out of their way.

"Let me through!" He cried, trotting through a throng of men working over a forge. Hûlon dodged around boys carrying bunches of arrows, the people crying out as they threw themselves to the sides to avoid collision.

Bursting through the archway, she cried, "Make way!"

They galloped through to the center of what had been the square before the house of the Lord of Dale, a contingent of men practicing with swords before them with others scattered along the sides counting weapons, and sharpening them against wetting stones. Dismounting after Gandalf, she observed the walls around them. Every few feet there was a soldier posted, spear in hand, clothes in rags. Some had shoes, others only had one or the other, a few only had pieces of cloth wrapped around their white feet. She could see that they had been fed, but they were not warm. A company of elves marched past them, and she made sure to keep her hood up, masking her identity from their sharp eyes. She did not want to be noticed just now.

A figure crept down the stairs, glaring at them. His shoulders were hunched, and his clothes looked to be of better make than those of his comrades.

"No, no, NO! Oi! You-pointy hat and hooded fellow!" he shouted.

Turning, she cocked her head to one side, what in the world was this scum doing here? She could smell his unwashed body and see the oil build up in his hair from where she stood.

"Yes you two. We don't want no tramps, beggars nor vagabonds around here- she flinched a little at the word, but made no more indication that she felt insulted-We've got enough trouble without the likes of you. Off you go! On your horses." He sniveled.

"Whose in charge?" Gandalf's booming voice asked, a tinge of annoyance lanced through it.

"Who is asking?" a voice questioned from behind them.

"Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey." the wizard stated, looking the man up and down.

The man looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "A friend of the wizard."

"I must speak with you, and the King," the wizard demanded.

"How do I know that you are who you say you are?" the man asked, suspicion blooming in his eye.

She sighed, what was it with the males of this day and age, or any age? Withdrawing her hood, she let her hair spill out and down her back, her seeing eye piercing the tough facade that the man had up. "I would think that you would take a wizard at his word, it is not wise to question them, least of all Gandalf the Grey."

"And you? Why do you hide your face from us?" he questioned.

"Me?" she asked, hand on her sword beneath her cloak. He nodded, his own going to the dagger that hung at this waist. Lifting her head with a regal air, one which could only be accomplished from years of practice, she glanced over him,"I know the king personally, if you are so inclined to disbelieve me, and the wizard, tell King Thranduil that Thennil, daughter of Elrond, granddaughter of Galadriel wishes to speak with him."

Much later they were seated within a tent, surrounded by elegant furniture and a carpeted floor beneath their feet. She rolled her eyes from the place where she leaned against one of the posts, listening to the three males speak of the mountain. She had to resist groaning when she heard the grievances that Thranduil held against the dwarves within their mountain. Bard simply wanted what his people had been promised to help them through the winter, to stave off their deaths from starvation. There had been warm food and wine, meat had graced Thranduil's table, a common occurrence among the elves of the Greenwood. She was full, but her guts twisted with worry over those sitting within the mountain. She begged the Valar to keep her niece safe from the evils of the gold. Though the sickness was most common in the line of Durin, she knew that even those who were not related in any way could succumb to it.

"You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldor have been emptied. You ALL are in mortal danger!" the wizard pleaded, looking pointedly at the king.

"What are you talking about?" Bard asked, utterly confused.

Thranduil chuckled darkly, rising from his seat,"I can see that you know nothing of wizards. They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm," he handed bard a cup of wine,"But sometimes a storm is just that, a storm."

"Not this time," she spoke from the shadow, stepping into the light, "These have been breed for war. They have been gathering at Dol Guldor for months. I have seen this in my travels of the north, Thanduil. Our enemy is summoning his whole strength."

"But why show his hand now?" the king asked, looking up at the tent ceiling.

"Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland," the wizard walked out of the tent, towards the mountain,"The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor; Agog the defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, it's strategic position."

"If he gains a foothold here he has an opening, a gateway to reclaim the lands of Angmar to the north," she stated from behind the three, hand going to the hilt of her sword,"If that fell kingdom rises again it will beginning of the end, Rivendell, Lothlorien, the Shire, and even Gondor itself will fall."

Turning to the wizard, the elvenking spoke,"These orc armies that you speak of, Mithrandir- where are they?"

"So you are the daughter of Elrond?" A deep voice spoke at her elbow.

"Aye, and you are the grandson of Girion," she said,"What of it?"

"I have only been told stories of the elven ladies of Rivendell. Are you the elder or the younger?" he asked, sitting down beside her as she watched to setting sun.

"The elder."

He nodded, looking her over with a calculated eye,"The beauty of the elves is unsurpassable, none among men could ever come close to your beauty."

She chuckled,"Beautiful? Me?"

"Aye, you do not know it?" he asked in shock.

"I have never been the beautiful one, Master Bard, that title has been reserved for my sister. I have always been the warrior," she stated, running her hand along the warrior braids in her hair.

"Then the eyes of elves must be blind, I have never seen one more beautiful than yourself."

Turning she looked at him, smirking,"Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe? Is it working?" he laughed, a deep baritone.

"Slightly, but come, my friend, I am far to old for you."

"I wouldn't doubt it, you must be at least a thousand years old," he said, taking out his dagger and wet stone.

"Not even close."

"One thousand five-hundred," she shook her head.

"Two thousand?"

Another shake of the head.

"Surely you cannot be three thousand years old!" he cried, jaw hanging open.

"Nay not quite, I am two thousand nine-hundred and thirty two," she chuffed.

He shook his head,"You must have seen many things."

"Aye, but there was more sorrow than joy for a time, grief is the greatest killer," she fiddled with her throwing knife.

"That's true," he nodded solemly, eyes becoming clouded, his hand reaching to something hidden beneath his tunic.

"You have lost someone?" she asked, looking at him, noticing the lines that marked his face, the start of wrinkles around his eyes.

"My wife."

"Ahh."

Silence reigned.

"Were there any children?" she asked tentatively.

"Aye, his replied, whole face lighting up, three. Two girls and a boy."

"Your son was the one who helped you take down the dragon?"

"He was, brave lad."

"What are their names?"

"Sigrid is the eldest, looks a lot like her mother, then there's Bain, and lastly my dear little Tilda," he said eyes glazing over.

"Are they here in the city?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Aye, they're staying with the other women and children. I won't risk their lives in battle."

"And yet you will stand at the front of the line."

"If not myself, then who?"

She did not reply. Here was a man who would give everything, even himself to save those around him. She had come across few of his race who shared the same views, the same willingness to sacrifice. Tucking the information into the back of her mind for later, she vowed that she would try and instill just such a mindset into her young friend at home. Estel still had much to learn of the world, and she hoped that this trait would become apart of him.

Sitting among the men and boys, she listened to them talk.

"I wonder if that dwarf is going to surrender? Do you think we'll have to put up a fight?" a young boy asked, he couldn't have been more than a few years older than Estel.

"Who knows, we're just waiting for the word," an older man stated, leaning heavily on his rusted sword, using it in replace of a cane.

"Are we going to survive? Even with the help of the elves we're just getting by; why are we even trying?" a ragged youth asked, pushing his musted hair out of his eyes.

"We fight because we have to, to protect what is our own," another piped up.

She sighed, trailing back to the tent where the king and Mithrandir still spoke.

She caught the tail end of Mithrandir speaking,"...What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"I think your trying to save your dwarfish friends-

"There is not only dwarves in there! There is a hobbit and an elf! Thennil's niece!" Gandalf stated, puffing on his pipe.

Thranduil ignored him, moving away,"And I admire your loyalty to them- he leaned over the wizard-but it will not dissuade me from my course. You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it."

He walked to the other side of the tent,"Are the archers in position?"

"Yes my Lord."

"Give the order. If anything moves on the mountain-Kill it." Her heart stopped beating in her chest for a second, horror breaking like a way upon her features.

"The dwarves are out of time."

Turning from the tent, she hurried to Bard.

"Bard, you cannot agree with this! Is gold so important to you? Would sacrifice the blood of these dwarves and their companions just to obtain it?" she asked, pleading. Gandalf paced behind her, mumbling as rings of smoke floated up into the dark sky.

"It will not come to that. This is a fight that they cannot win."

"You believe that? Have you not seen the stubbornness of dwarves? They will sit in there till you have grown old and grey, withering away to dust," she cried.

"That won't stop them," a voice piped up from their elbow,"You think the dwarves will surrender? They won't. They'll fight to the death to defend what is their own."

Snapping down, she took in the worn figure of the hobbit.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf's surprised voice gasped.

The hobbit smiled, looking at the wizard as he leaned on his knees, panting.

Back in Thranduil's tent, Bilbo stood before him. The Elvenking swept around the tent, settling into his throne, hands folded before him while observing the hobbit.

"If I am not mistaken, this is the hobbit that stole the keys to my dungeons out from under the nose of my guards."

Bilbo squirmed beneath his gaze, fidgeting with the frayed overcoat he wore, shifting from one foot to the other. "Yes, sorry about that."

She watched him, noting his hesitance. He continued to fidget, messing with a weight in his pocket. He had changed much since he had left Rivendell. While his clothes hadn't been in wonderful shake then, now they hung on his frame. His plump belly had disappeared, and his eyes looked slightly haunted. He had not bathed in some time, and there was dirt beneath his fingernails. The hair upon his toes, which had been so meticulously combed and washed while at her home was matted and knotted. Finally, he set a round package wrapped in scraps of cloth upon the table before them.

"I came to give you this," he stated, unwrapping the package, revealing a bright shining jewel as white and pure as starlight.

There were gasps from all, as their eyes grew large in awe of the beautiful jewel. Rising from his chair, Thranduil could not take his eyes away from the jewel.

"The heart of the mountain, the kings jewel."

Walking up to look closer at the famed stone, Bard muttered,"And worth a kings random," looking back down at the hobbit, his eyebrows crinkled,"How is this yours to give?"

"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure," he stated looking back and forth between the jewel and Bard.

"That was a very brave and foolish move, mellonin," she muttered, looking with concern to the hobbit.

"Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty?" Bard questioned, shaking his head.

"I'm not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you can possibly imagine. But they can also be brave and kind, loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, Mariam inpreticular, and I would save them if I can."

She put a hand over her heart at the mention of her niece, she must be well if the hobbit spoke such of her.

"Thorn values this stone above all else. In exchange for it's return, I believe he will give you have you are owed. There will be no need for war!"

"Rest up tonight. You must leave on the morrow." Gandalf told the hobbit who trailed after him.

"What?"

"Get as far away from here as possible," the wizard stated, crouching down to the hobbits level.

"I'm-I'm not leaving! You picked me as the fourteenth man. I'm not about to leave the company now. What about Mariam? Shall I leave her to deal with Thorin when he gets into a mood?"

"There is no company anymore. And Mariam can take care of herself. I don't like to think of what Thorin might do when he finds out what you have done."

"But it wasn't only me! Mariam helped me get over the wall, she'll take the blame. I'm not afraid of Thorin!" the hobbit cried, stomping his foot rather childishly, though his words were logical.

"But you should be! Don't underestimate the evils of gold. Gold over which a serpent has long brooded. Dragon-sickness seeps into the hearts of all those who come near this mountain." the wizard paused, looking over the hobbit appraisingly. "Almost all."

Alfred, the slimy man who had greeted him upon his arrival sauntered about. "You! Find this Hobbit a bed, and fill his belly with food. He has earned it."

The man groaned, clomping over the the hobbit and motioning dramatically in the direction of the makeshift kitchen. Grabbing his arm, the wizard glares down at him.

"You will keep an eye on him. If he should try to leave, you will come tell me."

The man nodded, wrenching his arm from the wizards grip. Pushing the hobbit, he snorted. "Move it! Stupid..."

Sitting at the edge of the city, Thennil watched the mountain. Her eyes scanned each and every crevice, the places where the stone had been carved away by the dwarves long ago and the places that time had smoothed into soft edges. A knife twirled in her fingers, spinning in the dark. The night was quiet, not a thing stirred beyond the fallen city. The river that flowed out from the mountain bubbled and gurgled in the distance, and the distant lights of the torches glistened on it's surface as it neared the city. She could hear the whispers of the men and women, words of encouragement and hope. Perhaps tomorrow they would get what was due to them. She could hear the sharpening of blades on the stones, and could picture the elves looking after their weapons. Now and them she could hear the noise of childish voices in the night, wishing their parents goodnight. All was quiet.

Perking up, she turned her head, noticing a shadow trying to steal past her out the gate towards the mountain.

"Bilbo, is that you?"

A sharp gasp shot out of the figure as he stumbled towards her. "Thennil?"

"It is I."

"Oh good, I thought it could have been Gandalf," the hobbit stuttered.

"Where are you going at this hour of the night?" she asked, standing to her feet.

"To the mountain. Bomber's watch is almost up, and I am supposed to rouse the next dwarf, Mariam was there just in case there was a problem," he said, glancing back and forth between her and the mountain.

"The I shall walk back with you," she said, walking with him quickly over the ground.

"Many thanks."

"Think nothing of it."

They spent many moments in silence before she spoke. "How is she?"

"Mariam? She was alright when I last say her earlier," replied the hobbit, evading the truth.

"Speak plainly, Master Hobbit, I know that this quest has changed her. Tell me how she is truly."

He sighed,"She has fallen in love with Thorin."

She did not speak, slightly shocked that her gut feeling had been true. "And?"

"Well, I don't know if she feels like loving him now, not with the gold sickness upon him. She's tried reasoning with him, distracting him from it, but it hasn't worked. I'm afraid he is breaking her heart."

She inhaled, closing her eyes for a second, whispering a few words on the wind, "But she is well?"

"Overall, yes, she is fine."

"Good."

They stopped before the gate, the giant head of one of the dwarves statues that had stood before the mountain lying in the river that flowed from the mountain. Looking up at the sky, she tried to find a star through the clouds. There were none. A darkness had settled over the mountain, blocking out the light of the moon and stars.

"Tell her that I am here if you are able," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly,"And let her know that I am thinking of her."

He nodded, and started forward, only to be stopped by her soft, sorrow-filled voice. "And if we do not make it through this battle, tell her I love her."

His throat tightened at the thought, he had not known Thennil like Mariam did, but he knew that it would grieve him deeply if either of them were lost. "I'll tell her."

"Thank you," she whispered.

 **So this one isn't as long as the last few by far, but please bear with me, it is coming. We will be ending the hobbit sooner rather than later. Probably a few more chapters at the most, then we'll be getting on the pre-LOTR stuff concerning characters we love.**

 **Please Review!**

 **Robin**


	24. Chapter 23

**Alright, so before beginning this chapter, I'm going to post the results from the survey/question that I asked you guys to reply to back in chapter 16. So here they are**

 **Thennil x Legolas-2**

 **Arwen x Legolas-1**

 **Thennil x Aragorn-3**

 **Now, I know that the way I wrote the question was kind of confusing, so I'll explain it a little better. I am NOT taking votes of who I should have her end up with. I already know who she's going to end up with. I just wanted to know who everyone thought she might end up with. Sorry for the confusion. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **What feels like the end, is often the beginning. -Unknown**

War and battle is an ugly thing, but in the midst of it, it is not always the ugliest. It is after the war or the battle has ended that one is truly able to see the ugliness that it has created, birthed. A war that is meant to protect others from tyrannical injustice; a war to give victory to a person's own ideas of good and evil , and which is their own war. A person is only willing to fight to keep himself, personally safe, is a miserable creature who can never be free unless he is made and kept so through the sweat and blood of those better than himself. As long as justice and injustice do not cease in their never ending fight for prevalence of any race, people must be willing, when the need arises, to do battle for one another against the evil of the world.

People you love are taken away, dying before their time. She had lost many people to war, but she had only had to watch a few slip away before her eyes. Yet again, she was forced to endure another dear one hanging between life and death. Sitting at the bedside forced to wait for them, praying that they would somehow pull through.

She had fought among the armies of the elves, dwarves, and men vigorously. But during the battle, she had felt a small thread of light flair in her mind, pulling some of her energy away from her towards Ravenhill. Instinctual, she had turned from the raging battle in the valley before the mountain and begun her ascent to the top of the hill. She had seen a flash of gold light, but then it was gone. Cresting the top of the hill, and looking over the frozen river, she had found the bodies of Thorin Oakenshield and her niece, Mariam. Calling for those that had followed her up the hill, she directed them to take the duo down to the healing tents after checking to make sure they were alive. Both breathed, and whatever wound that Thorin had received had been miraculously been healed. Mariam had sustained little injury, a few cuts and bruises forming here and there, but nothing that she needed to worry about. While she had been checking over Thorin, he had stirred, eyes opening and looking around unfocused, then snapped shut in exhaustion. She sent them down the hill, searching over the snowy terrain for any signs of the two dwarf princes'.

Working her way around and through the watchtower, she found Fili leaning against a crumbling pillar. He had been half awake, eyes fluttering in attempts to stay open and alert. She had taken his arm, slung it over her shoulder and slipped her arms beneath him, lifting him from the ground. He was compact, but not overly heavy like she assumed he would have been, but reaching the plain, she had begun to feel the pull in her muscles. At one point as she was making her way along the edges of what had been the battle, she had had to set him down and take out a few goblins that had made it out from under the noses of those hunting them. The smell of coppery blood mixed with the foul sent of the black orc blood was overpowering. It had her gaging as she made her way through the battlefield, unable to cover her nose and mouth because of the wounded dwarf in her arms. Fili had not responded after their initial encounter upon the hill, and she could feel his slip further and further into oblivion. She had run the last stretch to the camp that had been set up in Dale, handing the dwarf over to the other healers as she turned to search for the dark haired prince. She had made it known that if something happened to the dwarf it would not only be the wrath of Thorin Oakenshield upon their heads but that of her own.

It was along the edges of the battlefield to the north, behind Ravenhill, that she came across a curious sight. He walked steadily through the bodies of the dead, a certain red haired elleth leaning on his shoulders heavily. The elleth had looked like she had faded, or in the terms of men, was at deaths door. Her face had been sunken in, her eyes looking to big for her face. Her hands shook, and her hair had lost the luster that elves were known for. Even her balance seemed to be off. Kili looked to be fine, trotting along next to the elleth with a gentle word here and a soothing hand there, supporting her the whole way. When she had seen the blood on his clothes, she had almost gone berserk, thinking that he had been harmed, but when she checked the place where the wound should have been, there was nothing but an almost nonexistent scar. She hand hurried to the other side of the elleth after that, supporting her as they walked through the valley to Dale.

She had never expected the responsibility of those in all the camps to fall to herself. Within the hour of the battle's end she had been designated the spokesperson of the dwarves, and put in charge of organizing those remaining. At first she had tried to refuse, saying that she was needed in the healing tents, but was told by Gandalf that she was needed elsewhere. She had enlisted Ori as her scribe, having him keep all the things that needed to be done, and by whom, in order. He had stuttered and been slack jawed at her request, but had agreed once he had gotten over his astonishment.

Standing in a tent designated for her use, she looked over the list that she and Ori had come up with. Clear the plain of all the dead, giving each race their own to bury in their way, burn all the bodies of the orcs and goblins, start removing the stone and debris left in the wake of the dragon so that they could use the space within the mountain, and start rebuilding Dale. These were only a few on their list, which did not include getting food, blankets, and places that would shield the people from the coming winter.

Standing with her were Dain, Bard, Balin, Gloin, and Bofur. Her finger trailed up and down the list, knowing that things needed to get done.

"Well, to start, I think the battlefield needs to be taken care of," she stated, looking up at the others. "Those who were slain need to be put to rest, and our enemies bodies can be burned in piles."

Twisting, she looked at Dain, then over to Bard,"Can I rely on you two to take on these tasks? We're going to need a lot of people to help clear the field."

"Aye, Lassie, we'll get on it right away, no need to be staring at the bodies for the rest of the year. It'll start stinkin' come spring," Dain nodded gruffly.

She looked at Bard.

"I'll find some men, I just want to check on my children," he said, eyes straying constantly over to the commotion outside the tent.

"So be it," she said, motioning for Ori to write the names of the two next to that item on the list.

"Balin, Gloin, Bofur, can I get you three to organize the other dwarves into three separate groups, one to help here in Dale, and the other two to clean up the mountain?"

"Of course, my Lady."

"We're going to be shoveling out snake dung for the good part of the year, but aye!"

She chuckled, Gloin, always so dramatic. "Good, then lets get a start on it, I'll be out with Ori in a few hours to help."

What had once been chaos and disorder had turned into a well oiled machine. The camp rose early everyday, everyone working on one project or another. The dwarves worked to rebuild portions of Dale to shelter the women and children through the cold winter that was nearly upon their doorstep, using the broken stones from previous buildings the construct new homes. The groups within the mountain had moved a lot of the dragon dung to the entrance, but had left it there at her bidding, waiting for the fields to be cleared so that they could use it as fertilizer, disgusting though it may be. The ashes from the burnt corpses of their enemy floated and drifted through the air around the mountain, settling down like snow, coating everything in a grey layer. Those who had died within the mountain when Smaug had first come were buried in the halls of their father's, many people unable to identify their family members because of decay. Thranduil had left a week after the battle, leaving many of his elves that knew healing methods to watch over the sick. Many of the elves stayed, being organized by Tauriel, into patrols, scavenging groups, scattering the remainder to the areas that needed the most help. She had been extremely helpful to Thennil, bringing messages from all of the different parties on their progress if she had not visited them in a while. She had sent letters to her father and Grandmother, asking that they sent her the things that she had made lists of, knowing that they would send the materials and food stuffs without hesitation.

Every moment was spent helping out in one area of Dale or another in Erebor. No one had time to sit around, there were things to be done. It gave them all something to keep their mind off of how cold it was getting, even when it started to snow. By the second month of the new year most of the living areas of the mountain had been cleared and cleaned for use, the healing halls foremost. It was a joyous day when they were able to move into the mountain, which was much warmer than Dale. It was not long before groups of Dwarves began appearing at the entrance, the news of their victory spreading far and wide. With each new group, they were able to do more and more within the mountain. The stoneworkers were able to start restoring the archways and suspended pathways that had been knocked down by the dragon. The Forges were started, and many tools they needed were made, helping along the work.

Dale had been rebuilt enough that is was livable, though there were many who took refuge in the mountain. The men had returned to the lake to fish it's depths, bringing in their catch to both the mountain and the city, feeding all. Seeds and plants had been sent down from her Grandmother's garden in Lothlorien. Exploring the depths of the mountain, she had found a courtyard, a fountain situated in the center. Instantly she had been brought back to the vision she had had while in Rivendell, the flowers and plants sprouting up from the beds. Here, there were no beds, but in time she planned for there to be. More letters had been send to her Grandmother, asking for flower seeds, and a few saplings from among her garden. She had spent the winter months carving out beds into the courtyard floor, waiting for the warm winter sun to come and warm the frozen ground so that she could fill them with dirt.

It was on one of the warmer days that she found herself sitting at the bedside of her niece. As the mountain awakened beneath her feet, she slept on. Mariam had not woken from the deep healing sleep that she had been put into nearly four months before. She had acquired numerous small wounds, but none had detrimental. Thranduil had said that she had used her fea to heal, it had sustained incredible damage. She had then realized what the bright gold flash had been as she ascended Ravenhill all those months ago.

Her niece had pulled so much of her power from within to save Thorin, who had been wounded by Azog. She had given up her own soul, taking all of her strength and pushing it into the one she loved, the immenseness of the amount of power had exploded, spreading out like a stone thrown into a pond, creating ripples on the water. it had been her power that had saved Fili. Her body was slowly being drained of it's life source as her fea drifted towards the line of life and death.

Thorin had soon awoken after he had been brought inside the mountain, the healing sleep breaking. AS he recovered more and more of his strength he had been pulled away to take over the required duties of the King he was, leaving Thennil with less and less to look after. She took to watching over the motionless figure of her niece, watching her chest rise and fall.

"Will she be alright?" Fill asked, holding onto the warm hand of his friend while leaning on his crutch. He had broken one of his legs in his fall.

"I do not know," had been her only reply.

She had used what what little power that she understood, pulling it from deep within herself to try and bring the young woman back, but it had done nothing. She had continued to slip away.

"I wish that I had gotten to you sooner," she whispered, knowing that even when she had found Mariam on the hilltop that it had been to late. She smoothed out the golden strands of hair that were scattered over the starch white pillow.

"I could have helped."

Withdrawing her hand, she slipped from the beside. Exiting the room, she watched Thorin disappear within as she turned the corner following the smell of fresh air. Her batted feet made nary a sound upon the cool stone floors as she moved down the stairs through the mountain. She passed by the groups of patrols that had been set up around the mountain, nodding to the dwarves as they bowed. She snuck out beneath the noses of the dwarves on what at the gates, trudging down and around the base of the mountain, closer to Dale. Looking up into the night, she watched the stars glow in the dark sky. She reached up with one hand, imagining that she was up walking among them, being able to touch them. She let the darkness and silence engulf her.

"I never saw you as someone who would enjoy the night," a soft voice said, drifting on the wind.

She didn't respond, the warm breeze sweeping up from the south messing with her unbound copper hair. Closing her eyes, she drank in the peace like a glass of the coldest, purest, sweetest water.

"You are brighter than these stars, a beacon of hope, of light," it continued.

"My Ada did not call me his morning star for nothing," she stated, turning to look at the elleth.

"I don't think you are just a star in the sky, Thennil, you have so much to do, so many things that are going to change the world around us," the elleth continued, playing with her long red hair.

"I do not know, Tauriel, I am so unsure," she said.

"We can never be sure about the future, or at least most of it," the other stated, looking up into the sky, the stars winking down at her. She smiled.

"Aye, that's for sure."

Looking over the elleth, Thennil watched the way that she looked with amazement and adoration up into the night sky. She was quite beautiful, strong willed and stubborn to be sure, she had see it herself, but beautiful all the same.

"I think that you would like my home, Imladris, have you ever been there?" she asked.

"Nay, but I have heard of it's beauty."

"There is one spot that I like the most, up on the highest tower, every night I would sit and watch the stars every night as a youngling. It was like I was among them, like I could touch them if I wished, I've even dreamed of walking among them once or twice," she said, sitting down on a boulder.

"Aye, I have walked among them, though I do not know if I was dreaming or not, but they were the most beautiful things that I had ever seen, so bright, so pure, filled with memories," Tauriel whispered, seating herself beside the other elleth.

"Do you ever wonder what they might say, if they were able to speak to us? What stories they must be able to tell," she wondered, the white light making her eyes shine.

"Aye, I have."

"Perhaps someday we'll be able to ask them all of our questions, the ones that not even our elders can answer."

"We're like the river, steadily flowing, rushing along to great the sea, seemingly unchanged, but changing that which we flow across. It just takes time," Tauriel said, looking over the river that flowed away from the mountain to the Long Lake.

Thennil nodded, reaching up and clutching her pendent, thoughts drifting over her long life. She had done many things, more than any man or dwarf could hope to do in their lives, short as they were. How could they know what was before them? What they would have to do? Sacrifice? Looking down upon the river, one of the songs of her ancestors came to her mind.

Lifting up her voice, she began to sing.

"Our words go beyond the moon.

Our words go into the shadows.  
The river sings the endlessness.  
We write of our journey through night.  
We write in our aloneness.  
We want to know the shape of eternity.

Tauriel joined, recognizing the song, her voice harmonizing beautifully. Joined together their voices rang like bells over the valley, echoing off of the stones.

Who knows the way it is?  
Who knows what time will not tell us?

Mountains, solitude and the moon  
Until the journey's end?  
The river holds the lost road of the sky;  
The shape of eternity?

Who knows the way it is?  
Who knows what time will not tell us?

Where is the beginning?  
Where is the end?  
Why did we fall into days?  
Why are we calling out into the endlessness?

Who knows the way it is?  
Who knows what time will not tell us?"

Standing upon the rocks, their voices faded away into the night, the breeze swirling past them. In the moonlight their pale skin glowed, eyes shining in wonder as the sky changed, morning dawning. Perhaps this day they would know; they would understand what their fate was. Only time would tell.

 **Please Review! The muse will be out starting tomorrow,(getting the teeth pulled, yeah, whoohoo). See ya!**

 **Robin**


	25. AN

**Hey my dear peeps, Robin here! I just wanted to let you all know that the chapters are coming, slow though they may be. The wisdom teeth got pulled and I didn't really have a brain for the past few days. During that time I watched all the Lotr movies, extended versions to make a rough outline for this part of my story. It's going to be pretty cool I think, so hang on to your seats!**


	26. Chapter 24

**So, I really have to apologize for the late update. I had a really busy past few weeks, getting my wisdom teeth pulled, then going on vacation over the fourth. After I got home I started to get a sore throat, and now I have a double ear infection along with a really high fever, so yeah, not exactly what I was shooting for, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Also, to all of you who favorited and followed my story, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I really appreciate it.**

 **Without** **further ado, Chapter 24:**

Arms straining against the fabric of her sleeves, she braced herself against the heavy boulder. Sweat trickled down her brow, getting in her eyes and making them sting. Her shirt clung to her back, the warm breeze making it worse. She could taste the salty bitterness on her lips when she licked them, her face was flushed. Flexing her toes in her boots, she waited for the call to be given to release the stone. She had received more scrapes and bruises helping rebuild Dale and Erebor than she had ever acquired in the training fields at home.

"Let 'er roll!" came the cry from a burly dwarf everyone called Heil.

She waited for the others to move, knowing that her long legs would be able to leap out of the way quicker than their own could if the stone started rolling to fast. The weight of the hug chunk of rock was heavy on her slender shoulders, she could feel the muscles straining, her tenders taunt. Glancing to both sides she saw that everyone was clear, and leaping away, jumped up onto one of the piles of stone nearest her. With a crunching and a clattering noise, the boulder bounced down the hill, causing a small landslide of rubble to shower down to the pile at the base of the hill. It landed in a pile of rock at the bottom, clattering with the other stones that had been dislodged from the hill.

Wiping the beads of sweat from her brow with the back of her dirty hand, she left streaks of dirt across her face. Her gaze traveled over the valley, from the grey stone of the mountain, to the brown earth around the mountain which had started to turn green after many years of scalded grey from the dragon. The dung from the beast had proved to be a great fertilizer, helping the plants grow. Spring had come, and with it a renewed hope. The fields between the Dale and mountain were clear of all the dead, enemy and ally alike. Ploughs had been fashioned from anything available, some donated by the elves, others were found and bought from among the villages of men that dwelt along the forest edges. The soil had been ripe for tilling, turning over the blood soaked soil to reveal a new, rich black dirt that would benefit the people for years to come. The smell of wet, green earth wafted on the breeze, which blew up from the south was fresh and warm. Dotted around the mountain were small pine trees and others of the fir tree family, gifted to the people by the elves of Mirkwood. The birds and small beasts had begun to return to the plains and mountain slops in full force. At one point in her patrol of the mountain slopes she had come across a herd of wild goats grazing on the newly sprouted grass on one of the ledges of the mountain. Among the many adults there were numerous kids, leaping and jumping about with youthful energy. Life was slowly returning to the mountain, trickling in like a stream.

It was not only the animals that made their way to the mountain as winter broke. Dwarves from the Iron Hills, the blue and grey mountains, and those scattered among the villages of men came in droves. With each new group that arrived at the mountains gates, they were able to create another troop of workmen to work on the mountain, or rebuilding the houses and halls of Dale. The levels within the mountain that consisted of living spaces had been almost untouched by the wrath of smaug, leaving them only to be cleaned of the immense amount of dust that had accumulated there. The dwarves were willing to help, jumping at the chance to serve their people by restoring their home.

Taking a swig from a waterskin at her feet, she splashed some on her face. In the process she got the front of her shirt wet, making it stick to her skin. Looking to the east she noticed dark clouds on the horizon; but these were not the dark ominous clouds before a violent storm, these were the heavy clouds that spoke of rain to water the ground beneath their feet. Though it was only spring, she could sense that the summer would be a very warm, and very muggy one. Ever week it seemed to rain, washing away the death and despair that war always left in it's wake.

If only it would wake those that still slept under its gentle pattering. Much like Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White, Mariam had fallen into a deep, death like sleep. The dwarves, to honor her, had carved for her a stone bed to rest upon. Into the stone they had carved stars, inlaying them with white jewels, twisted vines, with carved stones for leaves, and roses alone the bottom of the stone. A soft pallet was made to lay across it, made of the finest cloth, a silken pillow with tassels to lay her head on. Thennil had dressed her in one of the gowns that Thranduil had sent for her to wear, adjusting them to fit her niece. The gown itself was of the smoothest silk, in a blue so close to the color of the sky that it could have been a piece captured from the heavens, cascading down like a waterfall. A silver belt was dropped around her waist, and a mithril necklace with a emerald pendent, a gift from Thorin, rested on her breast.

The platform was placed at the northern part of the Hall of the Kings, the jewels glittering. The golden floor shown in the torchlight, reflecting the many pillars and lights that hung from the ceiling far above. Everyday many of those from among the company would come to sit and visit her sleeping form. They would tell of the progress of the mountain, how fast Dale was coming along, the groups of dwarves flooding into the mountain, and how much they all missed her. Fili would chatter on and on about how their mother would be arriving any day; Kili would tell her all about Tauriel, and how much he loved her. Ori would recount how far he had sorted through all the books, dusting them, and alphabetizing them on the shelves that seemed to go on and on down the long room. Bomber came to her from the kitchens, sometimes bringing dishes that she had liked on the journey to the mountain, hoping the smell would wake her from her slumbers. But, there was one dwarf who never visited her anymore, only watching from the end of the hall, gazing on her sleeping form protectively.

Thorn didn't dare get any closer to her, knowing that he was the reason that she lay there, unmoving. In his minds eye he could still see her leaning over him, golden hair turned to a muddy blond, clotted with dirt and blood, much of it not her own. Tears had been streaming down her face, making tracks in the dirty that had accumulated there, dropping one by one onto his own dirty face. Her emerald green eyes had flashed a golden yellow as she spoke words from deep in her heart, in a language that he did not understand, but it had sounded ancient to his dying ears. Then the hand that rested upon his gapping chest had begun to glow, the tendrils worming their way along his body, seeping into his very soul it seemed, knitting his wounds together as her song had grown, eyes becoming glazed, the golden overtaking the green. Then when it seemed like it would all vanish before his eyes, the golden light had exploded around him, ripping out from her like a stone thrown into a pond, her song ceasing in that moment as she slumped against his chest. He had felt the light leave her, vanish in that single moment.

No, it was guilt that kept him from visiting her. Instead, it was his best friend that sat by her side through the early morning hours before the sun shown over the horizon. Dwalin watched over her, telling her of all the things that her love did each day. He had never been one to go into detailed accounts of the happenings around him, but for her he did. Describing each and every thing that Thorin did in all of his meetings and work, telling her how even Thorin's nephews couldn't rouse him from his grief. But she refused to wake, if she ever would.

"Kili, get up!"

"Hmmm?"

"Get up! Amad is going to be here today!"

"Leave me alone," mumbled the young dwarf prince, pulling to covers up closer.

Fili sighed, rolling his eyes. Kee had always been a lay-a-bed in the mornings. Snagging a tunic from his drawer, he began to pull it over his head, making his way to his brother's room across the hall, grabbing his belt in the process. Shuffling into the tunic, he buckled the belt on, pulling on the lever, he let the light flood down from above. His uncle had told him that when his grandfather had first come to the mountain, he Grandmother had been so used to the sunlight waking her up that he had installed mirrors in small shafts that would reflect the light from the outside world into the many bedrooms of the royal wing. Kili groaned, pulling the blankets up over his head, scooting down further into the warm bed.

"We have to check over her rooms, you know how she is if something is out of place or not clean she goes a little crazy," he poked his brother in the shoulder.

"She's not supposed to be arriving around noon or later, why do we have to get up so early?" mumbled the dwarf from beneath his many covers.

"I'd rather her be happy with how it looks that have her tear apart the maids who cleaned it," Fili stated, ripping back the covers from his brother's figure.

Kili drew his knees sharply up to his chest, glaring bleary eyed at his brother,"Five more minutes."

"Get up-Fili tossed a green tunic at his brother, hitting him the face-I'm not going to be responsible for Amad being displeased."

Kili sat up in his bed, watching his brother adjust his tunic in the mirror, a wicked idea coming into his mind. Creeping up to the end of his bed, he launched himself at his brother, knocking them both to the floor. Laughing, they went rolling over and over. Soon fists were flying, and legs went every which way, laughter erupted from the knotted two. Kili landed on top, slamming his brother into he floor, a devilish look in his eye. Fill just smirked, and raised and eyebrow before flipping them over so he sat atop his brother's much smaller chest.

"I win, now get your clothes on, then I'll do your braids. Bomber's got breakfast already served downstairs, after that we clean Amad's room."

"Got it!" cried the tussle headed prince, squirming out from underneath Fili's muscly thighs.

Letting his brother up, the golden headed prince slipped through the door that adjoined their rooms, fixing his clothes and combing through his hair. Kili pulled himself off the floor and drug himself over to his wardrobe, picking through the tunics and trousers he selected his a red tunic along with a pair of black trousers. Pulling off his clothes, he tossed them in a pile in the corner of the room, then grabbing his tunic he pulled it over his head. After finishing with his clothes, he combed through his hair, grumbling at the many knots that had formed while he slept. Fill joined him before the fire, plopping down on a stool as his brother sat on the floor in front of him.

"Just the norm?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah, maybe add Amad's braid in along the sides," Kili replied, tugging at his boots.

"As you wish."

Trampsing down the stairs together, the two paused outside the dinning room door adjusting their tunics and making sure that all was where it belonged. They slipped in through the door, settling into their chairs. Platters filled with food lay scattered over the table: sausages, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, slices of sizzling fried ham, golden toast stacked miles high, glazed scones fresh from Bomber's oven, oatmeal loaded with fruit, fried fritters from apple to peach, and more greeted their noses. Mouths watering they piled their plates high, snagging the many meats out from under their companions noses. Around them sat their companions, eating their own mountains of food, shoveling it in their mouths and chewing as fast as they could with one hand while with the other they reached for more. Silverware was used at the eaters disgression.

Across the table their Uncle was surrounded by Balin and his other councilors, already working on the long list of things to do that day. He nodded his head at them, giving them a tired smile. He was an extremely busy dwarf, establishing treatise with the Men of Dale, and those to the south in Rohan and Gondor for trading purposes, he had tried to navigate a truce between himself and Thranduil. That had not gone as successfully as he had wanted, even with returning the White Jewels of Lasgalen. He had lightened his schedule up a bit for a few days to spend with his sister.

He had gone through her old rooms, ones that were next to his two nephews, and had them cleaned up. He had tried to redecorate, but ended up dragging Thennil into it, or rather she forced herself upon him and ended up kicking him out. She had gone through the rooms, adding a new tapestry here, more lamps along the walls, a plush rug before the fire, an ornate woven carpet from the deep south in the sitting room along with many other items that needed to be replaced or updated. Many of the stuffed chairs she had to re-upulster because the original fabric had been eaten away by moths and other fabric loving insects. She had gone around and made the room more age appropriate seeing as the princess had been a young child before the mountain had been taken by the dragon.

"Come on Fee," Kili elbowed his brother, pushing his seat back and rising.

Shoving the last bit of a scone in his mouth and pocketing a handful of biscuits he followed after his brother. They had almost mad wit out the door when Thennil strode in, long hair swinging like a pendulum. Two braids hung down from the left side of her head, one with the family bead of the Durin's house, and one with a bead of her own that signified who she was. Her worn clothes had been replaced by a silver tunic of light weight fabric with the crest of Durin embroidered along the collar, hem and cuffs, tighter black trousers clung to her legs, followed by sturdy dwarves made boots that she would cherish for a long time.

She seemed to sense that the two young Durin's were up to something, noticing the mischievous look in their eyes. Her hands snapped out and grabbed their ears as the two separated to get around her, dragging them back to the table with a strong grip. Raising her eyebrow she plopped them back in their seats.

"And where did you think you were going?" she asked, scooping the oatmeal into a bowl and adding cream from a jug on the table.

"Just to check over Amad's room, make sure that everything is ready for her," Kili pipped up helpfully, grabbing a piece of toast and slapping jelly onto it.

Fili groaned internally, glaring across the table at his brother, so much for the pranks that they had planned.

"I don't think so, the lasses and I have cleaned it from top to bottom. You are not going to mess up all of our hard work by pulling a prank," she stated, giving them both a reproving look.

"We were-

They were cut off by one of her father's looks that she had inherited, a single eyebrow raised, radiating with disapproval.

"But-

"No. I have two brothers just like you who I wouldn't trust father than I could throw them," she took a bit of her oatmeal.

"Awww, Thennil!" cried Kili, plopping a sausage into his mouth,"We weren't gonna do anything bad, Amad would expect something."

"Exactly, she'll expect that you've rigged up one of those pranks that you have pulled on many of the council members over the last few months."

The two blushed furiously.

"Oh, you thought that I didn't put two and two together? I knew it was you the whole time."

"We-

"But-

"They were really annoying!"

"So? Your mother doesn't need anymore stress than she has already gone through, it would be a relief for her to just be able to relax after all that has happened, she nearly lost the both of you!"

The two sighed, slumping in their seats. So much for that plan.

"I suppose we'll have to think of something else to do, Kee," Fili told his younger brother, twiddling his thumbs.

A light popped on in Kili's brain, and his eyes lit up. Turning to his brother he have him a look.

"Don't you even dare think about it," Thennil's voice broke through their mutterings.

"Curse your hearing, Thennil," growled Kili,"We'll never be able to create another prank again."

She chuckled,"I'm sure that you will figure something out."

Kili smirked, hiding it behind his hand. Using his boot he tapped his brother's foot with his own, starting off a conversation similar to that of morse code. Back and forth the two went, conversing beneath the table where Thennil wouldn't see. More thumping and tapping occurred beneath the wooden table, answering and planning the doom of their friend. Soon they had fully communicated their plan as best they could through their secret language, and after a final tap, they sat waiting for Thennil to release them.

Looking up from her nearly cleared plate, she leaned back,"So, after I get the both of you dressed properly, then I'll set you loose."

"What?!" their jaws dropped in horror.

"We look fine!"

The other eyebrow joined it's brother, and she crossed her arms.

"She would expect you to still dress similar to a traveler? Below your station? I think not. You are the Prince's of Erebor, it's time that you look the part."

They groaned, slouching even further back into their chairs, much like a two year old would. She rolled her eyes and stood.

"It's not like I'm going to torture you."

Kili feigned being hit with a whip, then having his fingernails pulled out, screwing up his face in mock pain behind her back. When she turned back to look at them he instantly pulled his innocent act, crossing his arms behind his back while Fili tried not to burst out laughing. Rising fro her chair, she piled her plate atop the many that were already stacked all over the table. Turning to them, she waited there, tapping her booted foot on the stone floor, hands on her hips. She raised her eyebrow again, as if to say 'Well?' After what seemed like a century the two reluctantly left their seats, following her down the hall to their bedroom in the royal wing. Passing by a corridor, she caught the scent of fresh blossoms wafting up on a breeze.

She had worked log and hard in that courtyard, spending hours among the many dwarves she had enlisted to help her carve out the beds for the plants that she had growing in a small garden on one of the ledges of the mountain. They had hauled the dirt up from the fields around Erebor, mixing it with fertilizer, and poured it into the many beds that she had dug. In a few places she had them dig deep and long trenches where she planted small trees that would blossom year round and bring forth different kinds of fruits. As she had planted all the flowers, bushes, ferns, and herbs in the many pits, she had whispered spells of life into the air around them to keep them alive continually, In one spot, off to the side hidden behind many tall flowers and ferns she had created a small maze out of hedges. In this maze, she had made a small alcove, hidden from the eyes of the beholder if they didn't look close, and there she had planted a single white and gold lily, one that had only grown within her grandmother's garden's in Lothlorien, which she and her mother had been given responsibility of as the years had gone by. Over that plant she had whispered words of old, ones that had hardly ever been uttered aloud, binding her life to the plant, a flow from her inner few hovering around her as she watered and tended to it.

Taking a deep inhale she continued down the halls. They did not pause in the doorway or at the magnificent stonework that greeted them, no the two prince's were dragged into their rooms. Thennil went through their entire wardrobes, finding something she liked, and tossing it on the bed. Minutes passed as she dug through each of their closets finding what she felt would suit. By the time she had found a suitable tunic and over-tunic for each of the dwarves along with trousers that were clean she had come tot the conclusion that the two princes had no sense of fashion, or even what colors went well together. Why she even bothered to help them at times amazed her.


	27. Chapter 25

"So, this must be the elf that I heard so much about!" Dis stated, taking Thennil's hands in her own small stubby ones,"It's lovely to finally meet you, Mariam."

"Nay, your highness," Thennil chuckled sadly,"I am far older than that. It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years, you still have that same pluck that I remember you having as a small lass.

Dis peered closer, her eyes widening in amazement,"Ushmar?"

"Aye, it is I, penneth. You have grown little princess, though you are still quite small," Thennil smiled broadly.

"Oh, don't make fun of me," Dis cried, flinging her arms around the elf, hugging her tightly. "I have missed you dearly! Where ever have you been all these years?"

Kili and Fili stood, jaws slack nearly hitting the floor, amazed at what they were seeing with their very eyes.

"You-

"She-

"How-

"What?"

Thennil and Dis laughed,"I used to bounce your mother on my knee when she was but knee high to an apple tree. I watched over her for your grandmother."

They blinked.

Turning from her long-time friend, Dis looked over the rest of the group, piercing them with her calculating gaze. Not finding what she looked for, she twisted around to stare her brother in the eye.

"Now, where is this lass that my sons have written loads about, Nadeth?" she asked.

He sighed as all who had come to greet her grew silent, eyes downcast to the floor.

"Is she busy? Too busy to come and greet me at the gate? Or has she left you?"

The silence was pregnant.

"Well?"

Taking her hand, Thorin's only reply was: "Come."

He led her through the halls, past the crowds of dwarves bustling about, and through the guilds that were scattered around the mountain. Many of the darrow bowed and offered their greetings to the princess, giving her small gifts and asking after her health and the like. As they walked she asked her sons about the journey, how they had gotten over the Misty Mountains, and what they had been doing since the battle. Dis pestered them about their guest, the one that she had heard so much about, and bit by bit they told her the story. The other's jumped in every now and then to add their two cents about this or that, cracking jokes and telling small side stories about their adventure. hanging on Thorin's arm, she was yanked to a stop on the threshold of the Hall of Kings. All had grown silent around her as they had gotten closer and closer to the place she remembered being full of noise and laughter. Standing by her brother's side on the brink of the great room, her jaw dropped in a very unlady like manner at what she saw there.

A floor of solid gold now covered the one made of stone, shimmering and sparkling in the light of the torches and candles that hung from great chains from above. There was nary a noise, not even a breath of air from any of the company could be heard in the great expanse of the room. Pillars that she had been chased around as a very small child towered up above her, their carved structures supporting the few walkways that did not hang suspended in the air. It was more grand than she had remembered.

Gazing over the room, her eyes were drawn to a strange sight. On a couch of stone lay a beardless figure surrounded in soft candlelight. Her long golden hair was fanned out around her like a great cape, rippling and shining in the gentle light. If they had not walked closer, Dis would have assumed that the beautiful maiden was dead. But as they neared, she could see that the maiden was breathing shallowly, barily stirring the cool air around her, the chest rising and falling nearly inperseptiably. Even though she could see no musicians, music seemed to echo a lament around her bed in the still air.

With a heavy heart, Thorin looked upon whom he loved above all else. "This is Mariam."

He closed his eyes, tensing in physical pain as he spoke her name aloud. Dis needed no other explanation than that. Squeezing his hand with her own, she leaned her head on his broad shoulder comfortingly.

"She is beautiful."

"Aye, she is."

Dis didn't dare ask what had befallen the young woman before her, sensing as only a sister could the conflict and misery that it would bring upon her brother. Glancing over at the others she gave them a look that said 'we'll talk about this later.' Slowly they drifted away from the sleeping figure, the mournful music fading into the background and the lights seemed to dim. Trailing along the halls, they wandered up to the royal wing arm in arm talking about little things. Dis let her fingers skim over the walls and all their carvings, enjoying the cool stone under her fingertips. Once every few minutes they would stop and she would recount a moment or a small memory about the place, telling her sons about little things that happened with their grandparents.

Gathered around the grand fireplace in the common room of the royal wing the group told stories of their adventures.

"And so, when we all though we were going to be warg chow, the great eagles come swooping down from their eyres and catch us up in their huge sharp claws, dropping us on other's back and taking us up to their eyres. They even brought us some coonies and a wild sheep or two that we ate over the next few days while waiting for Thorin to heal up, which didn't take that long," finished Bofur.

"Interesting, and you say that they joined in the final battle too?" Dis inquired.

"Aye, they did, taking out ranks of orcs and goblins, who weren't so happy about the demise of their King, ugly bugger that he was," chuckled Nori, sharpening a dagger, one that Thennil immediately noticed was Dwalins.

Dis turned to her, adjusting her skirts accordingly,"Come, Thennil, tell us one of those stories that you told me when I was a child."

"Nay, they aren't that interesting, quite boring actually if I remember right," she said, leaning back into the wall, playing with the pendent that hung on a silver chain from her slender neck.

"Come on, there's got to be one that you know that we haven't heard," Bifur stated, swiping curls of wood shavings into the fire.

"Aye! You've travelled all over, surly you know one that we don't," Kili prodded, pulling his smoking pipe away from his lips.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell, it was defiantly not one that she was accustom to.

"Please, my dear," Dis pleaded, giving her that puppy dog look that she had used on the elf long ago.

She laughed, "I suppose, I could never resist you when you used that look on me."

Dis smirked cheekily.

Tapping her chin, she let her mind wander through it's library searching for the right story. There had been so many that she had learned over the years of her wanderings. Stories from Rohan, Gondor, the Shire, and many of the other Kingdoms long forgotten by men flickered through her mind. They were only fairytales, but they had always intrigued her. Finally after paging through the many books of the library within her mind she came across one that she thought would fit, having a prince and a princess in destress like Dis had liked as a child.

Staring into the fire she started, snagging a lock of her hair and twisting it as she spoke, eyes glassy and glazed over as she spoke:

"Long ago there was a beautiful kingdom. And within this kingdom reigned a kind and honorable King with his beloved Queen, and for a time they were happy. But as the years passed them by, the thing that they wanted most was not gifted to them. Their greatest desire was for a child. But at long last they were blessed with a beautiful daughter with golden hair. All the bells in they kingdom rang loudly to celebrate the grand tidings of the birth of an heir.

In his great joy the king invited all of his kinsmen, friends, and acquaintances to a great feast to celebrate. Among those that were invited to the feast were the wise women of the kingdom in order that they may be well-disposed to the child. Within his kingdom resided thirteen wise women, but seeing as he only had twelve plates, one of them would have to remain within her home.

The feast was held with all manner of splendor, the finest foods and most flavorful wines graces the tables. When it came time for the many wise women to bestow their magical gifts upon the child, they each spoke their gifts over the darling.

The first stepped forward, 'The princess will be the most beautiful woman in the world.'

The second said, 'She shall have the temperament of an angel.'

The third, 'She shall have a wondrous grace in all that she does.'

The fourth, 'She shall sing like a nightingale.'

The fifth, 'She shall dance like a flower upon the wind.'

The sixth, 'She shall play such music as was never heard upon the earth.'

Adding to the gifts that had already been five the seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh wise women gifted the princess with virtue, three with riches, and so on with everything in the world that a person could want.

When the eleven of them had blessed the princess with their gifts suddenly the thirteenth wise women burst through the doors, skirts swirling around her as she declared over the child:"On her sixteenth birthday the princess shall prick her finger on a spindle, and die."

In a swirl of dark green and black mist the wise woman disappeared.

The king and queen wept over the fate of their little girl, all the guests trembled at the wise woman's announcement. But yet their was still hope."

Here young Ori gasped, leaning forward in his chair.

"Stepping forward from her sisters, the last fairy looked over the beautiful child. Knowing that she could not reverse the curse, only soften it she said, "It shall not be death that takes our dear princess, but a deep sleep of one hundred years into which she will fall, to be wakened by the kings son with a true loves kiss."

In that moment all the wise women vanished.

The years passed quickly for the kingdom, and in that time the king had all of the spindles of the kingdom burned in great fires. It was done all in vain.

On the day of the princesses sixteen birthday she was wandering the castle, and coming to a strange staircase that she had never seen before, decided to explore. Up and up she went, passing by window after window, until she came to a door. Pushing it open she came upon an old woman spinning. Fascinated by the way that the old woman could turn wool into string, she begged to learn how. While using the wheel, her hand somehow, in someway pricked her finger. Falling to the floor, she lay their like dead. The old women cackled, disappearing in a poof of smoke.

The many other wise women came and moved the spindle, laying the sleeping princess upon a bed of silk, a pillow beneath her golden head. Whispering words of enchantment they cast a great sleep over the entire castle as she continued to slumber. As the great sleep fell over the castle everyone from knights to serving maids to pages to the very king and queen to fall into a deep sleep along with her. and the wind fell, and on the trees before the castle nary a leaf stirred. Around the castle grew a great wood of twisted trees and thorns, created by the evil wise woman in her anger. With every year that passed the woods grew taller and taller until there was nothing left of the castle that could be seen, not even the flag at the very top. But the story of the beautiful sleeping Briar Rose, for so the princess was named by those who told the story, went about the country, so that time to time king's sons came and attempted to get through the thorny hedge that surrounded the great castle. But they found it impassable, often none of them ever returned from the depths of the woods, lost and eventually dying.

After long, long years a king's son came again to that country, and hearing the story of the beautiful maiden trapped in a deep sleep within the castle, made it his mission to free her. Though many tried to dissuade him, he was steadfast, wishing to see Briar Rose.

Coming to what he had been told was a thorny hedge, he found only a large array of flowers, which when he stepped forward, parted for him. As he walked through them, they closed behind him until he finally entered the courtyard of the castle. There he found the horses, hounds, and fowl sleeping away. And when he entered the kitchen there was the servants and cooks sitting in their spots, knives or spoons in hand as if they had fallen asleep in the midst of making a meal. He went a litter farther, and found a staircase. Running up the many stairs, he passed the windows, not pausing to gaze down at the amazing view. He stopped before the door, pushing it open gently with his calloused hand he gasped at the sight before him.

For there she lay, Briar Rose, more beautiful than any other woman he had layed eyes upon, slumbering in a deep sleep before him. Stooping down, he gave her a sweet kiss, his lips meeting hers gently, like a breath of air. But as soon as he had kissed her, Briar Rose opened her eyes.

Gasping she asked, 'Is it you, my Prince? I have waited for you so long.'

Smiling, he took her hand, 'It is I, my beautiful Briar Rose.'

And they went down together, finding the king and queen awoken, the servants and knights going about their duties rejoicing. That very evening a great feast was thrown in honor of the marriage of the prince and Briar Rose.

And so they lived happily ever after, having a great many children and their kingdom flourished," she finished, looking over to where Thorin sat in his chair.

"Wonderful storytelling as always, my friend," Dis said, looking over the many content faces of the company. Then she yawned, covering it with one hand.

"Come, you have had a long tiring day, it is time that you looked over your rooms since we've had all your things placed there for you," Thennil said like the good hostess that she was inclined to be.

"I have to agree," smiled the dwarf woman, rising to her feet and linking her arm with that of her dear friend.

They disappeared down the corridor, their conversation ebbing away.

Thorin stood at the end of the bed. His long dark hair trailing down over his broad muscled shoulders. The silver that had once snaked it's way down from his head had strangely disappeared, now only a few pieces grew from his temple. His large forge worn hands splayed across the end of the couch, the scars and burns from the forges from the past faded into the tapestry and story that were his hands. His eyes drank in the sight of his sleeping love. The wrinkles that had begun to form around those crystal sapphire eyes had been wiped away, the skin once again elastic. Deep in their depth lay an unspoken pain, one that echoed through time in the eyes of many others, filled with immense sadness. Barely a sound came from him, his breathing as noiseless as a soft breeze.

Tip-toeing, as if he might wake her by accident, he made his way around the bed and up to it's head. Standing over her prone figure he relished the sight of his heart, the long fingers of her hands, calloused by time and hard work in the training fields, to her lovely slightly upturned nose, her slanted eyes that were so bright and vibrant a green that they could rival the emeralds that lay scattered in the hoard of gold that lay below them. His hand ached to hold hers once again, and seating himself in the cool stone chair that sat next to the bed he slipped his rough hand into her own, holding it gently. Using his thumb, he rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand. He waited, breath held as he watched her for any sign of movement, any twitch, flutter of an eyelash, or deep inhale of air.

"I have missed you, Givashel, I have waited so long to hear your voice. Won't you wake?" he begged, whispering into her ear.

He sighed, continuing to rub her hand with his thumb while bringing it to his lips and kissing it reverently.

"The boys miss you, they visit every day when they can. They miss your laugh, that annoying giggle of yours, the smirk that you would give them when they were up to no good, or about to pull a prank that you had spotted. They miss the talks that you would have, Fili especially,You encouraged him so. Everyone misses you, all the joy that you brought to us when you were awake. Won't you come back to us?" he choked,"To me?"

"I am so lost, Gimlelul, the light that you brough to my darkness is fading," he gasped, holding back tears as his tough facade that he had put together began to crack. If dwarves had been created like elves in anyway, he would have died of a broken heart, all alone.

"I have waited so long for you to open those beautiful eyes of yours. Did I ever tell you that? That your eyes are so beautiful? They are the most amazing pair of eyes that I have ever seen in all my days. Filled with such light, so much hope, so determined."

He stood, leaning over her slumbering form sorrowfully. "I have waited long for you to wake,ghivâshelûh, and I will wait till the end of my days for you to wake. My love for you is like radiant diamonds, a blazing wild fire, consuming me."

Leaning further forward, he gently pressed his firm lips to her soft, supple, ones. He poured all his love and the last glimmer of hope into his kiss, closing his eyes as a single tear escaped the locked gates of his tear ducts and falling to splash upon her glowing skin. Moving away from her, he shuddered, and squeezed her hand with his before dropping it back to it's place upon the silken folds of the coverlet.

"I cannot live without you, you are the air I breathe, the song that I sing," he whispered, turning away and looking up into cavern above him picking out the huge candles that hung in their metal chandiliers like sparkling stars in the night sky outside his mountain. "I cannot live without you."

Silence reigned over the hall, and the glow of the many candles and torches made it look like a fairy had come and left their sparkling pixie dust over the entire room.

"And you are my next heartbeat, my everything, and I'll be by your side, because I never want to go back to my old life," came a soft reply, like warm breeze on a sunny day.

Whipping around, Thorin gapped at the sight before him, heart pounding.

She chuckled, then giggled. Her long hair cascaded over her slender shoulders, curling at the ends, shining in the soft candle light. Her skin, which had been pale and lifeless glowed with the warmth of the sun, white and fair. And her eyes! Her eyes sparkles and twinkled with a jubilant light, full of hope and energy. The gown flowed around her like the waves of the sea, frothy and seemingly alive. Laughing, she leapt to her feet, almost dancing over the floor as she flung herself into his arms. Spinning her around and around, his own laughter joined hers, deep and throaty, echoing off the walls of his kingdom like the bells in Dale, loud.

"I thought that you would never figure it out, that I would be left sleeping forever!" she gasped as they came to a spot, both a little dizzy.

"I didn't, I just missed you," he said, holding her close.

She chuckled again,"Surely you must have known someway?"

"Nay, I can't recall anything that would have helped me figure this all out," he stated, then grabbing her hand began to drag her out of the hall, calling for the guards to summon all of his company along with the elf and his sister.

"Come!"

"Wherever are we going?" she asked, tugging her hand out of his, but still following him eyes open wide as she took in the rebuilt structures of the mountain as they hurried past.

"Everyone will want to know that you are awake, Thennil most of all, and the boys'!"

"Why don't you want until the morning? I know it's night, even if I can't see the sun."

"I can't wait, this is too important!"

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at him.

Glancing back at her, he saw the eye roll,"Now don't start that already, you've only been awake for a few minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever king under the mountain," she teased, taking two stairs to each of his one, making him walk faster.

Bursting into his meeting room, which now was crowded with his companions, he smiled largely.

"What's all this about?"

"You couldn't wait until the morning, Uncle?" Kili's annoyed reply, Tauriel must have been involved.

"Has something happened? A breach in the patrols?"

"What in the world is going on?"

Sweeping, Mariam into the room, he laughed, "She's awake!"

Dead silence.

"What?"

"It can't be, I'm seeing things surely."

"She's baking? What is it that he said?"

"Horrah! Hey for Mariam!"

She was soon surrounded by dwarves, clambering for hugs and asking question after question. She answered them diligently, laughing at a few, and promising Bomber that she would eat whatever he brought her. Turning around and around, her eyes finally came to settle on a tall figure leaning back into the shadow of the corner, the light of the fire on the hearth flickering over their darkened face. Upon seeing what had caught her attention, the dwarves parted for her, leaving a straight path to her aunt. With slow steps at first, she began her way through the crowd, then throwing everything to the wind, she bolted across the stone floor and into the waiting arms of her aunt.

"I've missed you!" she cried, clinging to the older elf like a child to his mother.

Caressing the golden head leaning against her breast, Thennil kissed her darling, "And I have missed you."

Leaning back, the young woman took in the smug look of her aunt. "What did you do?"

"Nothing at all."

She stepped back, crossing her arms,"That's what you say every time. What did you do?"

"Just planted an idea, penneth," Thennil chuckled mischievously.

"I thought that was a nickname I was only allowed to have," a voice accused with mock anger, causing the two to turn and look at the other female into the room.

"Nay, I use it for those I hold close to my old heart."

Mariam blinked, looking over the dwarf woman with the eye of a weathered and world wise woman. "You're Thorin's sister, Dis."

"Yes."

Inclining her head, the young woman put a hand over her heart, then brought it up hand out, palm upward, "It is an honor to finally meet you."

"And you," Dis' eyes twinkled, glancing back and forth between her star struck brother and the beautiful woman that stood before her. Plans were already forming in her mind.

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter! I've been trying to get to writing this out again, like I said, I have a plan, it's just sitting down and writing it. At the moment I'm going to be very busy for the next few months because someone at work was let go and I'm going to be covering extra shifts till we get someone trained to take their place. So yeah, along with work and college, it might be awhile between updates. I'm going to try and get a chapter up every week and a half to two weeks, hopefully.**

 **I would also like to thank all of you who have followed and favorited this story. It really means a lot to me that you want to read what I write! So please comment so I know what you think.**

 **I keep telling all of you that it'll be one or two more chapters till we get to the LOTR's and we're slowly getting there, I just don't want it to be a choppy transition. So yeah, maybe one or two more chapters until we get to the start of the LOTR's. So Please, PLEASE, be patient with me.**

 **Thanks Again, and Please Review!**

 **Robin**


	28. Chapter 26

**I'd like to thank all my new followers! It makes me really happy/excited that someone wants to read my work. I'm not a great writer by any means, but I try to be. Knowing that you like my stories well enough to add them to your reading lists is pretty humbling. Please continue to read and enjoy my little hobby!**

Whoosh!

Bending backwards, Thennil avoided Mariam's blade as it flicked to close for comfort. She was letting her guard down to much, she knew. Kicking her legs out, and leaning on the palm of her hand, she swung around and swept the young woman feet from under her. Mariam was quick on the uptake, jumping to her feet while pivoting to dodge the flashing twin blades that flashed like lightening in front of her face. A look of determination grew in her eyes, sparking and sizzling as they moved like wolves circling their prey. Her eyes flickered from side to side, assessing. Thennil smirked, even with all of Mariam's bravado, she could still see that her niece was unable to figure out how to disarm her. Side stepping a lung from the youth, she brought her blades to slam into the sides of her nieces weapon in a circular motion, twisting the sword out of her hands and causing it to spin up into the air, plummeting back to the earth where a pale hand caught it.

"You still can't best me, little one," she teased, handing the sword back to her nieces cheekily, _but that was really close._

"I don't know if I ever will, but at least I know that I can best Ellandan or Elrohir when I am in the mood," she groused.

"Aye, but they aren't here, yet."

"So, are they coming for the wedding?" Mariam asked feigning fear.

"Yes, you had better make sure that Dis knows to have Fili and Kili on a tight leash or your wedding could go down in shambles!"

"No! I've worked hard and long to get this thing up off the ground, as has Thorin, those four are not going to ruin it for us."

"I should hope not, else they face your wrath."

Thennil took a cloth and began to clean her blades of the dirt that had accumulated on them. Rubbing in circular motions she waited for her niece to continue, intrigued, she looked up. Mariam had stopped moving the cloth over her own sword and was staring out into space, a glazed teary look in her eyes. Crinkling her own brow, Thennil sheathed her twin blades and placed a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder. The girl jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Her hand began to move over the blade, her eyes intent on the circular motion that her hands made.

"What is it?"

"Nothing..."

"It must be something if your mind is gathering wool like it is."

"Really, it's nothing, nothing very important..."

Thennil took the sword from her nieces grasp and looked deep into her eyes as she spun her around to face her. Raising an eyebrow, she looked the woman up and down. Setting the sword down on a bench next to them, she took both of her niece's hands into her own. Kneeling she looked up into the face that she had seen in her dreams.

"Tell me, penneth, there is nothing that I would not wish to bare for you if I could," she stated, squeezing the clammy hands gently. She searched out what could be wrong with her fea, but the girl answered unsteadily before she could find anything.

"I-I wish that Amad was here, that she could help me," Mariam murmured, looking anywhere but her aunt.

A knife seemed to twist in Thennil's gut. Inhaling slowly, she looked up,"I know you miss her, I do too."

Mariam let out a muffled sniffle, still trying to keep up her tough facade.

"And I know that you wish that your Adad was here to walk you down the aisle. I know that I'm an inadequate substitue-here Mariam started to protest-but I have something that might help with the sadness of their absence."

"What?"

"Come with me, penneth, and I shall show you," Thennil encouraged, moving towards the hall that led up from the training grounds near the front entrance.

Mariam hurried after her aunt, running up the stairs after her as they walked along causeways. She began to fidget as they got closer to her aunts quarters, which were not that far away from her own, extremely close to the royal wing. These suites were reserved for the guests of the royal family, or extended members of said family. She watched as her aunt unlocked the door, pushing it open and walking straight into her room. Following her across the oriental carpet from the far south, she watched her aunt pull out a large trunk, one that reminded her of the one that Arwen would use when she went traveling back and forth from Rivendell to Lothlorien. Curious, she tiptoed forward into the room, peering into the corners and at the wall where her aunt had hung tapestries or paintings that she had found in the lower halls that had been saved from the dragon fire. Withdrawing a key from a hidden pocket in her clothing, Thennil placed it in the lock, but did not turn it.

"You might remember this, having seen it once already," she said slowly turning the key,"But perhaps this will make that longing for your family a little less."

Creeping forward, Mariam settled herself on a stool watching her aunt open the lid of the trunk reverently. She lifted out a few layers of scented linens, smelling of roses, and yellowed with age. Folding them neatly, she laid them out on the bed in a pile. A sad smile came over her face, a faraway look in her eye. Reaching into the trunk she withdrew fancy undergarments of the finest, purest white silk that Mariam had ever seen. Gasping, she saw that they were nightgowns, rather immodest ones that she wouldn't be caught wearing anywhere, she blushed just thinking about donning the soft garment.

"No need to blush, little one, your mother stitched these together for your wedding night and those after," she stated, pulling out three more white ones along with two deep blue ones, a dark brown, and a black. "She had seen what you would might become in dreams when you were but a small child, and once you started to take the path that she had foreseen, she began to make you things that you would need in the future."

"I still don't understand; when did she make these?"

"Every time that you were gone on a patrol or were out exploring the world with my brothers or some of your other friends she would pull these out and work on them," she pulled out a few more undergarments that were made of costly fabrics. After placing them on the bed she let out a sigh filled with contentment.

"These are not the only things she made you, you will remember this the most," with a swift movement, she snapped out a magnificent prussian blue dress. Tears leapt to Mariam's eyes as she recognized the gown. "You're mother spent hours on this dress, even let me do some of the hemming once I begged her to let me help, but even then it was only a few stitches if I promised to be careful with the silver threads."

Rising from her chair, the young woman let her long fingers trail over the beautiful dress, the long train, the detailed embroidery, and the long flowing sleeves.

"It's sublime."

"Aye, you're mother had hoped that you would wear it for your wedding day, or something of importance like that."

More tears flowed as memories of Miluiel came rushing back to the forefront of her daughters mind. Laying the dress out on the bed, Thennil received her weeping niece into her arms, whispering soothing words while stroking her back.

"I don't think I could have asked for a better gift than this from Amad," cried the girl, she looked up at her aunt with tear stained eyes, "And I don't think that I would have rather had anyone but you give it to me for her, Aunty."

Thennil's own eyes teared up, but she did not let any of them fall, always steadfast, strong, unwavering. _There is no greater gift at this moment than the one that I have been given to guard and watch over._

"And I, Mariam Eadlin Idril, daughter of Tilrim, son of Tilin, do so solemly swear upon my honor as a dwarrow, and as a warrior, to watch over, and govern the dwarrow of Erebor if ever my husband is absent with every breath that I breathe," Mariam's unwavering voice echoed through the halls as she knelt before Thorin and the elders of his council.

Thennil shivered from her spot in the crowd, pulling at her dress tunic nervously.

"Rise."

Slowly bending her knees, Mariam rose before the crowd, an ornate crown of twisted wire, small leaves of delicate gold branching off the center wire. Many pieces of metal branched off to form the triangular part of the crown, small white crystals attached to it, making the crown twinkle in the bright lights of the thousands of candles.

"All Hail Queen Mariam! All Hail the Queen!"

The voices of the people began to shout: "All Hail the Queen! All Hail the Queen!"

It started with those closest to the platform, and the throne, rippling through the crowds like a roaring lion. Louder and louder it got till the whole mountain seemed to shake with the sound of their voices as one. As Thorin and Mariam stepped down off the dais and started to walked down the long path that led to the Hall of Kings people began to thrown flower petals, rice, and small coins of gold all the while shouting their congratulations and greeting the new queen. Laughing, they both ran down the aisle as fast as Mariam's dress would allow. Large smiles graced their faces as they slipped through the door into the Hall of Kings where a great feast had been set up. The people followed suit, dashing into the room, rumor having it that the last person to enter would have some form of bad luck befall them.

Along with the many dwarves rushing towards the hall were the many guests that had been invited to the grand event. Elves from all three kingdoms had come, Halidor from Lothlorien, Elladan and Elrohir along with a few more of their friends from Rivendell, and Legolas from his Father's realm. Thranduil couldn't be bothered to come to the happy event himself, still feeling resentment towards the dwarves and dealing with the lose of many of his people. King Bard, as the bowman was known as now, had come with his two daughters and his son, having come to friendly terms with Thorin after their initial disagreement at the gates a year ago. His two daughters had grown accustom to the rough and gruffness of the dwarves, learning to enjoy their randomness along with their crude jokes that they cracked. Bain and Ori seemed to get along fantastically, both had become fast friends as Ori had shown the young lad the vast library of Erebor. Not even Bard had thought that his son would be interested in books, but after a whole lifetime with only a single book to share between the three siblings, Bain had hungered for more to satisfy his appetite. Friendships had begun to form.

Drifting in along the last few dwarves, Thennil seated herself against a wall as the feast began. Bomber had outdone himself in the kitchens, having ordered food from as far away as Gondor. Roast pigs, boar, deer from Mirkwoods forests, and numerous geese and turkeys had been acquired and dressed to perfection. Along with the meats and cheeses that had been prepared for the dwarves guests many fruits and vegetables had been prepared, both cold and hot, to be served to their elven guests who did not eat meat. There were even a few salads mixed among the heavily laden tables of the hall. Dessert came in many forms from puddings to pastries to cakes and tarts. Every flavor imaginable was served, and a few more exotic at the high table where Thorin and his close family and friends sat.

She watched with bittersweet joy as Thorin fed his new wife from the plate that they shared, gently offering her morsels of the meat pie or a chunk of diced fruit. Even from her spot in the shadows, a cup of fine wine in one hand, she could seen and feel the joy and utter happiness that surrounded the two. As the night wore on she waited for the musicians to start up, knowing that before the happy couple could move off to their private rooms that a few dances would have to take place. During the many hours of eating that had taken place, she had gone up to her room and donned a fine, glittering blue gown. It was unlike anything that her people ever wore, the sleeves fastening at the shoulder and then the wrist, loose fabric billowing in the breeze that she created when walking, the skirt had many folds in it, following her form, while when she would spin flying out elegantly. The neckline was a bit scandalous in her opinion, scooping down far lower than any of her other gowns at home. Over all, it would have been the kind of dress that Arwen would have loved.

Standing from his seat, Thorin led his new bride down to the cleared dancing floor, the musicians tuning up their instruments before a long night of dancing ensued. Standing just beyond the light, Thennil watched the two dance together, perfectly paired, eyes for no one but the person before them as they spun across the dance floor. This first dance was slow, but it gave into a faster jig, much to joy of the other dwarves who had joined them on the floor. Many times she had joined in the dancing of her friends people, had loved every second of it. It was like a welcome breeze to the slow, more elegant waltz' or reels. Waiting, she watched eagerly as her brothers offered their arms to the dwarrow ladies in residence while Kili had dragged Tauriel onto the floor and Fili, Sigird.

"May I have this dance?" a serious voice interrupted her musings.

Turning, she was surprised to see the blonde headed prince of the woodland realm at her elbow.

She raised an eyebrow. "You looked lonely, and I figure that we could given them a run for their gold if we danced."

She chuckled, placing her hand in the princes callused one, "I think we might have to bribe the musicians to play a song that is similar to our people's."

"Already done; I enjoy this dwarfish music, but I wouldn't mind having a turn on the floor with music more suited to the lessons that I had to learn," the prince smirked in reply.

"As you wish."

Walking out onto the floor with the golden prince caused quite a few of the guests to gape, stopping to watch. The music subtly changed into something that resembled something that you would hear at one of the dances held in the courts of Legolas' father or that of her own home. taking a step back, Legolas bowed low, and she curtsied. They he took her hand, and she rested the other on his shoulder. Slowly, they began to glide around the floor, swaying back and forth. Letting him guide her through the steps, letting the music draw them into it's melody. Back and forth they stepped, then holding onto his arm at the shoulder and the elbow he swung her around him while her dress flared out like a plume. Together they moved like water across the floor, their steps exact and relaxed, like they had been dancing for years together. Leaning back, she let her fingers trail along the ground, by her head before he pulled her up into a spin, making her smile. She hadn't had this much fun on the floor in years, dancing had been something she avoided after her mother had left, it brought back the first few lessons that her mother had taught her.

Dipping her around one again, they came to a part where it was more steps, less moving around. Looking into his eyes, she saw a deep sorrow flash across them. "You miss her, don't you."

"I do, she taught me everything I know," he said, looking blankly at her.

"She loved you, you know."

"I know, I just wonder why she felt she had to go with my father to the battle," he whispered.

"Because she loved him, and that love saved him in the end," she told him as he dipped her.

"I don't know about that, after loosing her he went all cold, emotionless."

"Aren't all of our people looked upon as emotionless? It is how he masks his pain, mellonin," she told him as he lifted her a little to continue.

He said nothing as the music came to an end as he spun her around for the final time.

Shouts and praise leapt off the lips of those around them, making them both jerk. Blinking, they turned to the crowd and bow, or curtsied, together before leaving the floor for the more rambunctious dancers. Her brothers were making faces at her, one pretending to vomit, the other gagging.

Rolling her eyes at them, she turned to the prince,"It was a pleasure dancing with you; something that I haven't done in a very long time, my lord."

"I hope we meet again in the near future," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"And how do you know you won't be seeing me tomorrow?" she asked, teasing.

"Because I distinctly remember seeing bags in your horses stall this morning before the wedding," she sighed,"I didn't think you would be staying long after today."

She nodded, still with a hand trapped in the crook of his elbow, "I have done what I needed to do, I feel the need has moved elsewhere." She turned to look at her niece, a short vision flashing across her eye, she smiled,"It is time that I let my penneth grow up and be her own person. She is no longer the child that I helped raise and train. She is a woman with her own household now, one that I do not feel that I should encroach upon."

"I don't think that she sees it that way," he said, bringing her over to the table of dignitaries.

"No, she would keep me here," she stated, looking over the joy in her nieces fea.

Legolas remained silent, watching her. His calculating eyes had watched how she had gone through the whole morning, the ceremony, and the feast. Most people knew him for his keen eyesight when it came to distance, or sensing something in the air that was evil. No one thought about the fact that he might be able to also see the true heart in the people around him, to be able to see their pain.

"It would pain you to stay here and watch over her," he said perceptively.

"Aye, she has the one thing that I have longed for in the depth of my heart for more than an age, the one thing that I will never be able to obtain, and that which does not mix with my line of work," she whispered, watching as the couple snuck off into the shadows, cat-calls and whistles following their retreat.

"Love, unconditional."

"Aye, and a family in the future," she said, thinking back to the visions that she had seen.

Legolas could see the pain that it caused her to admit to her fears, the agony of not being able to have what she most desired. He could not see the future, but he could not comprehend the fact that the Valar would deprive someone who had sacrificed so much for the people of Arda a love like the one before him. "Someday, my Lady."

"Someday, when I have travelled across the sea and have been made whole, maybe then. But I do not foresee a life like that for me here on this Middle Earth." Her mind flickered back to the youth living among her people, the one she had come to cherish for the light that he was.

He nodded,"I wish you a fond farewell, Thennil, may you walk among the stars."

"May the leaves of the wood never turn brown and fade, and your aim ever be true," she replied, extending her hand in farewell as he did the same.

Slipping down the corridors, she wandered into her room. Letting the door fall shut behind her, she looked down at the elegant robes she wore. Her fingers ran over the soft, silkiness of the fabric, falling like a waterfall down to the floor, the blue reminding her of that which dwelled between a brilliant sparkling light teal and a orchid color. Sliding it off her body, she folded the gown delicately. Removing all of the special undergarments before girding herself in her ranger-wear. The rough woolen tunic and tough leather pants reminding her of days under the blazing sun. She could smell the woody, rustic scent that still clung to them even after having them washed. Pulling on the many layers, she finally pulled out the many pins that had been stuck in her head to keep her ornate hairstyle in place. She let her many curls cascade down her back, the red turning to coppery gold in the light of the torches as she brushed through it with a boar bristle brush. After finally man-handling it into submission, whatever the dwarrowdams had done to it had made it frizzier than ever, she braided it tightly to her head before letting the braid fall with a light thump against her back. Looking up, she tried not to be amazed by the difference. After living for so many months among the dwarves she had had the opportunity to wear dresses and look presentable more often then when she dwelled in the wilds. Before she had looked like a sophisticated lady, one who could silence a room with a demure look if she so wanted. Now she had the look of a warrior, her hair half escaping the top of her braid, curling in every direction, clothes rough and of dark color. There was a steely glint in her eye, determination. She looked quite like the land she inhabited, wild, untamed. Running her hand over her blade, she stood tall as she clasped her cloak around her.

Turning, she looked at the still unfinished letter lying on her desk, quill resting on the ink bottle just calling for her. Snatching it up, she read over what she had already written before adding a few more lines. She waited a few seconds before tossing a pinch of sand onto the paper to suck up the excess ink, then blowing it off into the fire, she folded the letter before sealing it with a bit of candle wax. On the smooth side she wrote Mariam's name, before also leaving a note for whomever would come to find her in the morning. Laying the note on the bed next to the folded gown, she rested her hand on the pommel of her sword, relaxing once it fit into her hand. Mariam was ready to become her own woman, to stand on her own.

She knew that to escape the mountain at this hour would be easy, had it not been for the presence of a wizard. Upon saddling her horse with her things and the provisions that she had obtained, she heard his scuffled footsteps upon the stone floor. Leading the horse out, she stopped before him.

"You feel it?"

"Yes, there is a stirring, a change in the air. The nine have awaken, sauron is bound to return, though when I do not know," she turned to look at the wizard from under her hood, eyes shining like twin stars, "I must keep watch and prepare the way for those to come after me."

"You think that something will take your life, something dark?" the wizard asked.

"I have had dreams, my friend, small flashes of a possible future," she said, adjusting the straps of her bags.

"The child-

"Do not speak of him, even here among friends there are enemies," she hissed, looking up at him.

"But you will look after his people," the wizard continued.

"Yes, I have left his training to Glorfindel and the twins along with my father, once he is of age he shall be told who he is, but until then I shall watch over the land, and his people."

"Bring your news to me, I know that you do not like Saruman, and that you clash every time you meet, I will be willing to listen," the grey wizard stated.

"How I wish that you have been chosen the head of our council, Mithrandir, I feel like we would be better prepared."

"The past is the past, child," he sighed.

"Aye, wish the two newly weds luck for me if they come out before you leave."

"You will visit them again soon?"

She laughed softly, "If I did not Thorin would have to confine Mariam to her rooms because she would come find me."

The wizard smiled,"Then let us hope that you visit before that happens."

She smiled, **_Trust me, Mithrandir, everyone will be visiting this mountain before two years have passed._**

The wizard jerked as she spoke in his mind, "You and your grandmother enjoy giving an old man a heart attack."

She laughed, swinging into the saddle. "We are alike in many things, mellonin."

"Safe travels my friend," the wizard called after her as she rode into the night.

"You are bound to need them with your exploration."

 **So look! I've updated sooner than I thought! I had a free Sunday afternoon that I sloughed through this chapter. I had a difficulty finding what to write. Apparently I just needed to remember what happens at weddings. Duh!**

 **So, Thennil is on with her journey. I'm trying to decide if I want to time jump big time in the next chapter or if I should continue a few years down the road with the hint that I left with Gandalf.**

 **You tell me what you think! I really enjoy you're input you guys. It keeps me going, honestly!**

 **Muse: Hey, what about me?**

 **Me: Yeah, you might have something to do with it if you cooperate...**

 **Muse: Cooperate. COOPERATE! I don't cooperate enough for you, you lazy stick in the mud!**

 **Me: Enough! No name calling, not around the children!**

 **Muse: Children? You have kids?**

 **Me: No, not yet. =p I was talking about our dear readers.**

 **Muse: Oohhh, yeah...**

 **So yes! Please review and let me know what you think. Also, what has been your most favorite part of the story so far? I'm** **interested...**

 **See ya in a few weeks!**

 **Robin**


	29. Chapter 27

Sitting in the shadow of Ered Lithui, she watched. Many years had she traveled this land, looking out for it's people. It had been nearly twenty years since she had come to dwell in this dark wasteland. She had been ever aware of the movements of the Lord of the Nazgul and his brothers. Slowly they had begun to bring in droves upon droves of slaves, bought from traders in the south, and a few from the north. She had been able to intercept a few bands here and there, relocating the slaves to places in the many cities that were scattered across Gondor and Rohan. And now she watched. The amount of slaves had decreased that the slavers brought in, and she could only assume it was because of the marriages among those that already dwelt on the fields. It disgusted her, but she remembered over and over the evil, and their enemy was utterly nauseating.

She had been ever vigilant as she looked out for the peoples of the earth, waiting for the enemy to move. Each day she could feel the darkness growing, and she knew that Sauron's strength was growing. He may not have been in his physical body, but his spirit was enough to incite war and chaos. He was gathering orcs and trolls, breeding them into war machines. Bit by bit he was building an army. One that would be unleashed upon Middle Earth in the near future.

Rising from her seat, she looked out over the fields of Nurn, picking out the numerous bodies of the slaves that toiled in the burning sun. After a moment she looked away towards the east, observing Dagorlad with her piercing eyes. There was no movement there today, and she felt that there wouldn't be any for a long while. Soon, though, soon there would be people walking across this plain, bent on destroying middle earth, blotting out every kingdom from east to west.

Hopping down, she bounced from stone to stone, shimmied down a sheer rock wall, gripping the smallest of cracks, and jumped to the ground. She trotted across the gravelly soil, numerous rock slides having created a stoney, shifting base around the solidness of the mountains. Her feet hurried along a path that she had created over the past two decades, worn into the earth by her light feet. They carried her over the rolling hills, through ravens, and through the tall grass that began to creep higher and higher as she got farther away from the mountains. Slipping down a hill of grass, she came to a stop. Using the palm of her leather gloved hands, she pushed off of the slick hill towards the camp that she had hidden among the tall grass and few trees that had managed to grow in her secret raven.

Hurrying forward she pushed the dirt over the fire that she had lit earlier in the day, covering all her track just in case someone happened by her hiding spot. She snatched up her saddlebags, bedroll, and canteen along with a satchel, she swung them over her shoulder. As she ran through the tall grasses she counted the days until she would once again be able to bathe somewhat properly. Coming to the top of one a hill a little over a mile from her campsite she dropped her bags to the ground and raised her fingers to her lips, letting out a high, ear splitting whistle. It was almost to high for her to hear, and was much to high for any man to hear. Gazing across the fields she waited while breathing in the sweet smell of the grass around her. She stopped breathing deep when she caught a wiff of her own odors, wrinkling her nose in revulsion.

"A bath is definitely in order," she mumbled, catching sight of a black stallion thundering across the plain toward her.

Plucking her bags from the ground she raced down the hill towards the even ground, the horse still pounding towards her. He didn't stop as she slid across the damp ground before him, his sharp hooves flashing in the light of the sun. His whinny echoed over the plains, loud and authoritative. Nearly upon her, his hooves mashing the ground, stirring and ripping it up, he reared, a shrill, irritated snort. She ducked his flaying hooves, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.

"Really?" she asked, skirting around him, "Every time, Cadoc, _every time!_ What do you think you are? A war horse?"

He snorted, shaking his head at her, turning to nip at her arm as she strapped on her bags and sleeping roll, seeming to say ' _of course?'_

"And what have you been up to, mellonin? Prancing in front of all the mares somewhere in Rohan I wouldn't doubt?" she said, leaping onto his back.

He bucked a little, causing her to hold tight to his mane as he pranced about anxiously.

"Oh, so you were, fancy that," she chuckled, nudging him onward with her heel.

He whinnied proudly, tail raised high and streaming out behind them as he thundered across the plain.

"What my brother's would say about me now, talking to a horse. What is the world coming to?"

After a long hall, spending a day in the pouring ran, and nearly being unseated innumerable times by her finicky stead, she made it to the edge of the Edoras. Riding into the town she smiled at the many garden's that were on display, the children running across the streets, and the sound of laughter bouncing off the different alleyways of the city. She made her way down one of these alleys, weaving through the city towards Red Horse Inn, one of those popular among the Riders of the Mark. Pulling her hood tighter over her head, she dismounted, moving into the stables to rub down a antsy Cardoc. He snorted and chuffed at her as she tired to hurry and get him all cleaned up, making sure that his hooves were fine, no cracks or overgrown nails. Finally after what seemed like forever she was able to meet his approval with the feed and the amount of hay in his stall.

"You are the most difficult horse that I have ever had in all of my years," she muttered, grabbing her things and walking to the door of the inn.

Striding inside, she surveyed the room with a critical eye. Her face momentarily lit up upon seeing a figure surrounded by other riders playing a game of dice at one table and knucklebones at another, before schooling her face into the emotionless facade she had perfected over the years. It was soon broken by the jolly face of the young innkeepers wife.

"Ahh, Audra, you've returned once again to us!" Cried the young woman, rushing forward, all smiles.

Smiling widely, Thennil received the tight hug from the motherly young woman, gasping a little at her incredible grip.

"I'll have a room set up for you in no time, I hope you don't mind that it's a corner room." the woman babbled, seating her at one of the many tables at her establishment, "The riders have returned sooner than expected, and are most likely going to be home for a while, much to the joy of all of their wives."

She nodded, taking the plate that was set before her. Ignoring the fact that there was meat on her plate, she dug in hungrily. Cooking skinny, tough coneys was a challenge on the plains, and they tended to be very dry, not even the meager grave she had been able to create had been able to moisten them. She had steadily migrated away from her people's normal diet of vegetables and fruits with small bits of dairy and fish supplementing their diet, there wasn't much in the way of edible greens in the southern regions that she had spent most of her time in.

She could hear the men laugh and jest as their games continued, now and then she hear the soft chuckle of that one person that had popped back up into her life again. He had grown much since she had last seen him, he had become a man in her absence. She had watched him from afar when he had first come to join the Riders, having already spent time among his people learning their ways. The boyish chubbiness that she had teased him over had disappear, replaced by an angular face, sharp silvery-blue grey eyes, if that were possible in a man, his short little legs had grown long, his shoulders broader, more muscled since he had joined the riders. Along his jawline there was a shadow of a beard, one that had been trimmed, but never totally controlled. The light hair that he had possessed as a child had darkened to a deep brown-black, and was quite shaggy.

Lifting her eyes, she watched as he sat down across from her, Magdiln ceasing her chatter and leaving them as she went to greet another patron. She continued to eat in silence, flicking her eyes up to look at him now and again. He waited, watching her intently, his eyes scanning over her features frantically at first, then slowing as he realized that she was unharmed. Finishing her plate, she sopped up the remaining gravy with a piece of soft rye bread. She plopped the morsel into her mouth, licking her fingers quickly before wiping them on her tunic. Neither of them spoke, looking the other over, examining them intensely.

"You have grown, penneth," she said, picking up her mug of mead, sipping from it slowly while watching him from over the rim.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd have noticed," he said, surprising her with he deeper voice.

"And you're voice has changed," she commented, avoiding his accusing eyes.

"Why didn't you return to Imladris?"

"I had business to attend to elsewhere."

"I was waiting for you," he said, rubbing his forehead, "I sat at the gates every day when I wasn't doing my studies or in the training field with the twins or Glorfindel. I waited for you to return."

She flinched at the accusation in his tone, "And I wanted to, but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of a few."

"So I didn't matter?"

She inhaled sharply, his broken tone breaking her heart, "No, you mattered. I wanted to come to you, to be with you when you came of age, but my responsibilities lay elsewhere. I could not do my duty from Imladris."

He sighed, turning towards the fire, "I know what I am, who I am."

"And?" she asked, eager to hear his answer.

"I do not want it."

"What?" she nearly hissed, jaw liable to hit the floor it was hanging so loose.

"I don't want it, Thennil, how can I? My ancestors, what they-" he couldn't finish, closing his eyes.

"You are our last hope, Estel," she whispered, pleading with him, begging him with her tone.

"No," he said, looking down at the ring that rested on his finger.

She wanted to weep, the king did not want to be king, their hope was all but gone. "I do not like your decision, but I will stand by you none-the-less."

"Join me, then."

"In what?" she asked, instantly curious.

"I wish to travel back to Imladris, see our family," he stated, twisting the ring absentmindedly around his finger.

She twiddled her thumbs, looking into the fire, flashes of her home flying through her mind. She had not seen it in over forty years, her wanderings and watchfulness having led her down different roads, far away from the house of her father. She missed her brother's, their pranks, their conversations; and Glorfindel, her favorite sparring partner and companion.

"We could go through Lothlorien, I wouldn't mind spending a few weeks in my Grandmother's house before returning home entirely," she said, fingering the necklace about her neck.

He smiled, "I look forward to our journey."

"Aragorn, you sod! I knew that you would pull something on me during this trip!" she shouted angrily, her feet squishing about in slimy boots. She heard a shifting in the tall grass, turning she lunged forward, only to find the space empty.

She shuddered, trying not to gag as she continued to squelch around in her only pair of boots, "This is not funny you brute! These are the only pair of boots that I have, and now their filled with some kind of swamp scum thanks to you!"

Another soft movement, then a chuckle came from her right. Ignoring it, she moved in his general direction, but still away from the spot she could sense he crouched. He was still a boy at heart, at least when he was pulling pranks.

"I will get you for this, you clod!" she growled flexing her fingers, then lunging she grabbed for the man who plagued her. She yanked him up from the ground by his ear, making him squirm in her grip before breaking free.

"I always told you that I would get you one of these days, you had it coming," he said chuckling while he strapped on his weapons.

She rolled her eyes, picking up her things and walking away from him through the grass. Their horses had been set loose, but where within whistling distance if they were needed. Ignoring Aragorn's entreatments, she continued to walk. Not bothering to whistle for Cardoc she continued their journey, nose in the air. What was she ever going to do with that boy?

He quickly caught up with her, but did not apologize. She elbowed him in the gut, and dodged his attempt at swatting her. Prancing away she kept just out of arms reach for nearly an hour, teasing him as he tried to tackle her. She let him close after that hour, telling him to behave. He rolled his eyes, tramping after her as they walked across the plains. They did not need to speak to one another, enjoying the sound of the wind across the blades of grass or the chirping of the sparrows from their nests among the grasses.

Near dust Thennil began to feel uneasy, a forbidding feeling blooming in her chest. Something was not right, a darkness was growing in her mind. On the breeze she could smell something foul, reading of sweat and other awful odors. At first she guest it to be a sheep herder or a swine farm, but going over her geography of the area she realized that those farms were farther south and north, to far away for her to be able to smell the dirty animals. The birds singing was almost to soft to hear if they sang at all, their cheeps nervous. Something was coming.

They were about to head down a ravine when she stopped, listening, "Aragorn!"

He had frozen also, listening to the quiet, "Something's wrong."

She nodded, "Quietly."

Together they crept down the ravine, slipping and sliding along the shadows. Both held their breath as they neared the other side, their sharp eyes flickering back and forth, wandering over the grass and the crest of the hills around them. Barely making a sound, they made for the exit of the ravine, breaking into a silent run as they got closer. Shouts and snarls rent the night air as out of the brush jumped a band of orcs. Swords already drawn, the duo charged the ranks together, slashing and cutting at the foul creatures. Thennil cursed herself for not avoiding the ravine altogether. How could she have been so stupid? Cutting through the orcs in front of her she let out a scream of rage as the images of her mother's battered body resurfaced suddenly, her anger gaining control of her logical mind. She rushed through the orcs, her sword moving faster and faster, cutting an arm off here, stabbing an orc in the gut there, and beheading another. So engulfed with her emotions she threw caution to the wind, ignoring the noises around her as she vanquished her foes.

Gutting the last orc fro throat to naval she ripped her sword from it's lip body, letting it slump to the ground as she panted. She felt the racing of her heart slow, the animalistic look in her eyes dimmed and she stumbled back away from the corpses around her. Shock coursed through her veins, her stomach turning over and over, causing her to cover her mouth as she prevented herself from vomiting. She immediately withdrew her hand, being able to smell the death and rotten meat smell from the orcs on her hands. Dropping her sword to the ground as her fingers trembled with the aftershocks of her anger. What had come over her?

She had never been this angry or violent when it came to slaying orcs before, that was her brothers' forte. Her shaking hands felt her face, the smooth skin and the defined cheekbones. Closing her eyes she reigned in her feelings. That outburst had been unexceptable, she had never let herself loose control like that, and she vowed to never do so again. Turning from the horrific scene she looked for Aragorn. Scanning the shadows and the bodies she began to panic, he was no where to be found.

"Aragorn?" she panicked, voice rising octaves as she threw out her senses. "Aragorn!"

Turning at the sound of ragged breathing, her heart seized, and she rushed towards the noise. She dropped to her knees beside her friend, grabbing for her bag of herbs in the process. There was nothing there, looking down frantically she searched her person for the bag. It was gone. Heart pounding, breath coming in gasps she looked around her pushing over bodies near her in desperation. Not finding it she turned back to him. Even with only the light of the moon she was able to see that his face was paler than it should be, his black hair glistening with drying sweat. Feeling around his person she looked for a wound.

"Stop, Thennil," he finally gasped, eyes drifting open, then shut as he attempted to keep conscious.

"No, I can heal you," she refused, pulling at his tunic in hysteria, tears making her vision swim.

His hand shakily grabbed hers, though there wasn't much strength in his grip, "There is nothing you can do, the blade was to close to my heart, and it was poisoned, Thennil. I saw the color of the blade."

"No! No, you are going to be fine," she cried, looking at him in the eye.

"I'm dying," he gasped, face screwed up in a grimace.

"I'm an elf, I can heal you," she stated, belief in that fact wavering.

"Maybe it's better this way," he muttered, eyes fluttering.

"Don't talk like that, I don't know what I-what Arwen would do without you," she shuddered, realizing something for the first time, and it broke her.

"At least I was able to see you one more time," he whispered, lips turning blue as his beautiful silvery blue eyes fell shut. His breath rushed out of him like the last flutter of a butterflies wing, softly.

"Hhhhh!" tears leaking out, the fat drops falling down her face.

"No!" she cried, clinging to his chest, "Aragorn, Aragorn! You can't leave me!" she wept into his leather tunic, "I love you."

She clung to him, heart cracking, splintering, breaking. She loved him. She had loved him from the time she had held him in her arms, though it had changed over the years, growing from the love of a child to that between a man and a woman. But she had never told him because of Arwen's love for him. Weeping she looked up at the stars.

"Why?" she cried, "Why?"

Then running her hands through his hair, she began to sing the song that he had always begged for before bed as a small child:

The leaves were long, the grass was green,  
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,  
And in the glade a light was seen  
Of stars in shadow shimmering.  
Tinuviel was dancing there  
To music of a pipe unseen,  
And light of stars was in her hair,  
And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came-

She broke off, an agonizing sob breaking forth from her slender body. Shaking, she looked down at his face, tracing it with her bloody fingers. Closing her eyes, her grief took over, blinding. Tears fell upon his dirty face, dripping down to form tracks in the dirt. Slowly, bright golden lights began to form, entwining them both as she poured her very soul, her fea into her hands. She could feel the energy being drained from her body, her life force, her immortality passing through her fingertips as she let her inner power take over her body. It wrapped around him, the golden light slipping into his mouth, the power pulsing. Choking, she snapped her hand away from Aragorn's body, watching as the golden light began to fade.

Hauuuuuhh, he inhaled, lungs expanding and drinking in the air. Blinking she reached out tentatively, wondering if what she was seeing was even real. He stirred, eyes flickering open.

"Aragorn?" she asked barely above a whisper.

Turning his head, his eyes widened in worry as he saw her tears, "Thennil?"

"Aragorn!" she cried, flinging herself into his arms and holding him close, breathing deeply of his masculine grass-like scent.

"What-uhh," he stuttered bringing his arms to return the random hug.

As soon as his arms wrapped around her she leapt out of his embrace, brushing off her embarrassment with practiced ease as he rose from his prone position on the ground. Confused, he followed her, cleaning his sword and sheathing it, as she went and plucked her own blade from the ground yards away from where he stood.

"Come," she motioned, hurrying to the other side of the clearing, towards the exit.

"Thennil?" he asked as they rushed through the night, her keen eyes keeping them from tripping in the dark with the help of the stars and moon.

She ignored him, pushing them harder, the edge of the woods of Lorien in the distance. Her mind was running in every direction, trying to explain itself and her actions to her. Something was blooming within her, something that she knew could not ever be, at least in reality. They entered her grandmothers wood soon after dawn and were shown to the rooms prepared for them. Aragorn fell fast asleep upon the soft bed, the worries of the road washed away by a peaceful sleep he had not encountered in ages. Thennil on the other hand paced her room, having changed into new clothes after bathing in one of the many pools. She could not sit still, not even when she had meditated.

Grabbing a cloak, she hurried through the woods, down the many winding paths, and through the brush, skirt snagging on twigs as she rushed through. Down twisted, forgotten paths she tread, her mind traveling to the place she found peace far before her feet touched its soil. Coming to the edge of a great hole in the ground, she climbed over the intertwined roots of the great trees that rose up to greet the sky. Ignoring the long skirt that encumbered her she pressed on towards the edge, grabbing onto the lowest limb of one of the trees she flung herself around and over the edge. For a split second she hung over the edge, the possibility of falling to her death very probable, before landing on the protruding exposed roots of the great trees. Settling into the twisted roots, she leaned back against the trunk of the tree closing her eyes.

She inhaled deeply, drinking the peace that she felt in this place. She knew that it was strange to feel peace when at any moment you could go plunging to your death, but it was here that she felt like she could leave the world behind. This place had long been hidden deep within her grandmother's woods, a place full of beauty. What was a pit was not a deep, dark, entirely dangerous pit. This pit was full of life. It was wide, and deep, ledges of stone grew from the sides and strange pillars from it's depths covered in foliage. Numerous streams flowed into the pit, creating waterfalls and pools, the sunlight filtering down and shining on the many flowers that had come to grow among the ledges. It was untouched even by her people, and here she was.

She did not know for how long she sat there, eyes closed and dead to the world around her. It could have been raining and she wouldn't have felt or sensed a thing so deep within her mind did she dwell. There she looked for answers, for wisdom. Slowly, she allowed her senses to return, letting the light flood into her eyes, feeling her blood course through her veins, hearing the breeze as it swirled around her.

"You are troubled, penneth," came her grandmother's voice from beside her.

 _Aye, I am._

"You are afraid."

"I'm not just afraid of this feeling, this emotion," she whispered, guilt building in her gut, "If I pursue this I will be betraying Arwen's trust. She has given her heart to him, and he to her."

"Sometimes the best thing to do is not think, not wonder, not imagine, and not obsess over something. Perhaps it is not what you think, penneth." Her grandmother stated, combing through her granddaughters hair with her long pale fingers, soothing.

"How can I not?"

"You overthink things far to often, child, sometimes your mind needs more time to accept what your heart already knows. It might take a day, weeks, or years, but what's meant to be will always find a way," her grandmother chided.

She said nothing as her grandmother disappeared from her side, looking across the pit. Not long after Arwen came tumbling through the brambles, something clutched in her hand, concern etched on her ageless features. Settling down beside her sister she said nothing, sensing that was what her sister needed at the moment. She could tell that whatever her grandmother had told her sister had turned her world upside-down, and she was trying to piece it all back together. Their grandmother could be quite troublesome at times, especially for her granddaughters. Sighing she rested her soft hand over the rough one of her sister, squeezing gently. They sat together, watching the sun slowly drift lower and lower in the sky as the birds songs began to fade into silence as the moon and stars rose. It had been many years since she had had any contact with her elder sister, and she could see the small changes that had been wrought upon her person. There was more worry within her blue eyes, concern for the world they lived in as it slowly got darker and darker. She was weighed down by many things, most of all the protection of her own family.

"I don't know what Grandmother said, but I think that you should listen to her," she whispered lovingly, "She is not known as the wisest of our people for nothing."

So saying, she let the object fall into her sisters hand, standing and moving away, "Keep it safe, Thennil, as only you can."

Looking down, Thennil wrinkled her brow in utter confusion, puzzled beyond belief. Laying in the palm of her hand was the ring of Barahir.

 **Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Yes, I time jumped like you YveMarieFan, but she wasn't with the Rangers! ;)**

 **So, I really appreciate the response that I got for my last chapter, it was pretty fantastic! It might have something to do with how quickly I got this chapter out...**

 **So please, comment, review, message me! I love hearing what you have to say!**

 **Thanks as always,**

 **Robin**


	30. Chapter 28

Sitting in the shadows along the Brandywine river, Thennil watched the goings on of the Little People with curiosity. She had known what it was like to have peace, but this was different. Here these little people lived their lives without fear of war or raids, their biggest worry was how much of a crop they would bring in or how many piglets would sell at the market. She chuckled as she watched two very young hobbit lads mess about not far from the water, throwing stones into the river as it flowed past.

Hobbits were not overly fond of water, and it was with interest that she watched the two children. The shorter of the two, who could not be more than a few years old at best and he was the more mischievous. He threw larger and larger stones into the river, heaving them over his little shoulder. The elder, who looked to be around eleven watched over the lad but also tossed stones into the stream, looking bored. Plopping down on the bank he propped his chin on his hands and watched over his little friend, smirking when he tripped over his overly large hairy feet. She chuckled and thought back to the birth's of her grand-nieces and nephews.

Little Torne along with his two sisters, Indridi and Frida, and younger brother, Agmund. She smiled, recollecting their births. Torne had been a difficult infant, and Mariam had worried that she wouldn't be able to carry him to turn with the few complications that had popped up. Thorin had been a bear, protective and caring. She had teased him about how he constantly babied his wife, holding her hand as she descended the steps, made her travel in a wagon to dale, and had someone watching her every moment of the day when he could not be with her. Then the young prince had made his appearance, squalling at the his small lungs. The whole company had heard his screams, teasing Thorin mercilessly about what a handful the boy would be. The lad had been born with no hair at all but for a few tufts of a golden brown peach fuzz on his small chin, promising to be a thick beard when he grew older. Gandalf had given Thennil a look, a mischievous glint in his eye, having figured out what she had told him many years ago. He had sat outside the door to Thorin's quarters as they waited for the news of his sons birth, Thennil working within the room, watching over her young niece. It was he that stated that there would be another royal birth to come, causing Mariam to throw her cup at his head telling him that it would be a while before she ever let her husband near her again.

Indridi's conception to birth had been much easier than her elder brother's, causing no problems at all for Mariam. She had popped out as silent as a mouse, eyes already looking over her surroundings in wonder. Thennil had nearly cried when she had had the infant placed into her arms, the babe had looked so much like her grandmother Miluiel. The nose and eyes very elfin like, and she had been born with a head full of dark brown hair that was immensely curly. Mariam and Thorin had muttered quietly to each other after their daughters birth that they would be waiting a long while before anymore little dwarflings joined their nursery. Thennil had chuckled merrily in her corner as she watched the two fawn over the darling little girl. Not even two years had passed before another screaming bundle had been placed within the cradle in the nursery. Little Frida had joined her siblings, and her parents didn't complain. Three children was considered a large family by dwarfish standards, and the dwarrow of Erebor saw this as a sign that their realm would prosper. It was when Frida had turned eight years old that Mariam surprised the whole of Erebor with news of her pregnancy. Thorin had fainted at the news, falling on his face from his throne. When Thennil heard she had been on the floor rolling in laughter, her mind conjuring up images of the stern, serious dwarf king paling, eyes rolling back into his head and flopping to the ground like a flighty ninny. Agmund had joined the throng of siblings, and soon became the terror of the mountain. Indridi, though she was several years older than he had become his best friend, and together they had pranked their relatives days on end. Fili and Kili were known as uncles to them, though they were cousins, but being so much older Thorin and Mariam had felt that they would be seen by their children in that light. Life had blossomed within the mountain.

"Peregrin! Peregrin!" a high pitched voice cried.

A very plump-looking female hobbit hurried over the hill, basket hanging from one arm, and a large straw hat with a ribbon fluttering on the breeze on her head. She trotted down the bank and snatched up her son, holding him close to her chest. She glared down at the lad who had jumped up from the grass where he lay.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck what in tarnation where you thinking?" she asked, voice rising higher and higher as she continued to clutch her son to her bosom fervently.

"We were just throwing stones, Mrs. Took," the lad stated, fidgeting with his shirt as the woman reached out and snagged his ear.

Shaking him she grumbled, "And why do you think that was a good idea? Do you remember what happened three years ago with Drogo and Primula?"

"They were in a boat, ma'am," the boy snarked.

"I don't care if they were in a pail, they drown, them and their love of boating which you bucklanders so love," she cried,"My little Peregrin could have fallen in and drown! What would you have done then? You can't swim!"

"I won't do it again, Mrs. Took," the boy promised, his left eyebrow twitching.

Thennil could tell he was lying, and she sighed. But, then again, hadn't she done something similar in her youth? She and her brother's had been the trio of terror in Imladris for a long time, terrorizing the inhabitants and making noise like nobodies business. She chuckled as she remembered one incident inpreticular in which they had continually rearranged Lindor's book within his personal library. He was so particular about how they were shelved, the taller books at one and and the shorter at the other. And his scrolls! Oh, they had truly made him made when they hid them all over his study, between books, within drawers, and even handing a few from the ornate rafters. Then Arwen had come along and they had all been whipped into shape, though there were still many pranks that she was sure that her father had no clue whatsoever about.

Slipping away under the brush, she made her way to the edge of the Shire, towards Old Forest. Walking beneath the heavy boughs, she let her fingers trail through the ferns that grew up around her in the shadow the leaves. She had visited this forest long ago when they had traveled back from the Grey Havens after their mother had sailed across the sea. Here she had found some solstice after the emotional separation, sitting beneath the trees and listening to the birds sing their merry tunes as the sun rose in the mornings.

Seating herself beneath one of the oldest trees she poked at the dying embers of the fire that she had started earlier this morning. She leaned forward and blew softly on the flames, coaxing it to life. When it did not flare up she added a few more pieces of kindling that she had gathered, and blew a little harder. Still it refused to catch. Groaning, she leaned back and rested her hooded head against the tree.

"Why?" she asked the breeze. "Why can I not get a fire to catch? I'm an elf for pete's sake! I should be able to do this!"

Growling, she turned to the smoldering coals and glared at them, lifting her hand she snapped her fingers, feeling a small amount of energy leave her. The flames immediately jumped up, consuming the kindling and reaching hungrily for more. Grabbing a few smaller branches, she laid them strategically over the fire. She kicked at the dirt around her camp, glaring back at the flames as they eagerly lapped up the fuel she had given them.

 _So, I have to use my gift to get you to light?_ she thought grumpily at the fire.

Moving off to one side she dug through her packs, looking for something to eat. Pulling out a few apples and a chunk of cheese she sat down, biting into one of the wrinkled apples while looking up into the sky. Night would be coming soon, and with it the stars. No matter where she went, they were always there looking down at her. Taking another chunk out of her apple, she let her sense travel out. Closing her eyes she listened to the sounds of the wood. There, a badger grunted, digging into it's home after eating a hearty meal. A robin twittered, it's mate responding and settling down into their nest together. A stream bubbled softly, gurgling as it made it's way down to join the Brandywine. All was at peace.

Finishing her apple, she settled into the roots of the tree, pulling her cloak around her to ward off the chill of the evening as darkness fell.

It was not long after the moon had risen when she heard music, sad, lonely, longing music. Rising as if in a trance, her feet led her through the old forest towards the sound. She knew these words by heart, she had sung them long ago. Her boots made nary a noise as she passed through the woods like a fantom, a ghost. Coming to a stop, she watched the long procession as it wove through the trees. Off to her right she heard soft scuffling, and the soft voice of a youth. She didn't need to turn her head to know that there was more who watched the elves as they departed Arda. Her eyes scanned over the many tall figures looking for familiar faces amongst her kin. Her heart clenched as she found Ithwilin, one of Arwen's friends, and Throdrilon, Elladan and Elrohir's friend of the guard. So many had been feeling the call of the sea, the call home in these past years. She had never felt the call, and she knew that in the end she probably would end up leaving even if she did not feel it. Her father had talked many times journeying across the sea to be with her mother again, but he had said that his time had not come, that he must wait, the fate of Middle Earth was still hanging by a thread.

Slowly the elves began to sing another song, on that she had sung many times over the time since her mother's departure. Softly she let her voce join in among the other angelic like ones, the longing echoing through the stillness of the woods, causing the youths to quiet their mutterings as they listened.

A Caita carelya ammelda ar moiana.  
Lanta i lómë, utúlielyë tiëo mettanna.  
A lorë si, ar óla len i epë tuller.  
Entë yaitar hrestallo pella.  
Manen neyilyë? Mallo niër antalyassë?  
Rato cenuvalyë sa ilyë caurelyar autuvar,  
varna mi inya ranqui.

Man cenilyë eccaianna?  
Manen i maiwi ninqui yaitar?  
Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta -  
Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya.  
Rómen ahyuva ve hyellë telpina,  
i cála nenissë. Ilyë fëar autar.

I Estel vinta ambarenna lómëo,  
ter fuini lantala, pella enyalië ar lúmë.  
Áva quetë: "Si utúlielwë mettanna".  
Hresta ninquë yáma - elyë ar inyë ata ómentuvalwë.  
Ar elyë nauva sinomë mi inya ranqui.

Man cenilyë eccaianna?  
Ma i maiwi ninqui yaitar?  
Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta -  
Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya.  
Ar ilyë ahyuva ve hyellë telpina,  
i cála nenissë. Ciryar mistë autar

Númenna.

 _Will you answer the call?_ a voice spoke into her head.

Jerking slightly at the invasion of her mind she calmed when she sensed that it was her grandmother.

 _Nay, I do not feel this call, not yet._ She answered in her mind, watching as her kin walked through the ferns, the light of the moon and stars making them look like they glowed. _But even if I did, how could I go? I have my duty as one of the guardians of Arda, I could not leave them to their fate._

 _I did not know what you thought, penneth, you have hidden your thoughts and mind from me for some time._ She knew now that her grandmother was frustrated with her, she had seldomly kept anything from her, and this caused her grandmother to worry.

 _My heart had been conflicted, and I did not want to worry you._

 _Not telling me of your concerns worries me._

 _I cannot bare my heart at this time,_ she whispered in her mind.

 _I will be here when you are ready._ Came her grandmother's reply.

"It could be forever," she whispered to the stars.

"In the black pool of the midnight Eru has slung the morning star,  
And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar  
Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen,  
Stands an immortal beauty among men.

Her hair glistens like gold, And in her hands the earth she holds, She watches carefully, And guards our lives fervently,

Child of the light, Daughter of the dawn, She rides as our white knight, Born to protect us from the dark spawn."

She listened intently to the poem, curious about it's writer.

"Did you write that?"

"No, Bilbo did, fascinating isn't it?"

"Aye, wonder if he was talkin' about elves in it, being immortal and all," the other voice stated.

"I wouldn't doubt it, he met many during his adventure, he still writes letters to the king under the mountain and his wife."

"Bilbo knows a king?"

"Aye, two infact, one being a dwarf and h other an elf."

"I'd love to hear him tell the story again, it's been awhile," the lad responded.

"Aye! Think he'll still be awake if we drop by?" cried a new voice, the sound of shuffling feet amid the moss and twigs.

"Perhaps if we hurry back now he'll have finished up in his study and be ready to tell us about his adventure!"

She could hear the two young hobbit jump to their feet, racing off into the night. Moving swiftly she followed after the two. They ran and leapt over the fallen logs much like a hart would, impressing her with their amount of energy. After following them through the woods she watched them hurry home, crossing the bridge and waving to those who were still out at this late hour. Some of the women yelled at them, telling them that they should both be in bed not gallivanting about. She smirked as they rushed by their fellows, booking it down the road as fast as their large hairy feet could carry them.

The flames flickered back and forth, casting shadows over the small ravine in which it resided. Taking a sip out of her canteen, Thennil gazed into the the flickering tongues of fire as they played with one another across the logs and twigs. Taking a blackened stick she poked the fire, causing sparks to fly up in the air. After she had tossed back the last of the mead that she had filled up on in Bree she took out her blades and began sharpening them, the slick of the metal against the whetstone. Her motions were practiced, precise, perfected. Looking up from her work she listened to the nosies around her, only there weren't any. Here along the edges of Fanghorn forest she sat, using her gifts to shield her from the eye of the wizard that dwelled within his dark tower. It was here that she felt the presence of evil growing, evolving, teasing her. She knew that Saruman was no longer their friend, he was foe.

Long had she warned her father in secret, saying that deep with the wizard dwelled a hunger for power, but he had only taken it as a precaution. He had brushed it aside as he had many other time when she brought things of her concern to his attention. But how could she fault him? She had deceived him many times to help those whom he had abandoned or wished to stop. Yet the things that he had felt were meant for evil had in turn brought forth good.

Pausing in her movements, she looked down at the ring resting upon her index finger. It glinted in the fire light, the emerald eyes of the serpents shining in the light, making them look as if they were alive. The golden flowers seemed to glow a copper-like gold if the light flickered in the right way. She rubbed her fingers over the designs, feeling how loosely it fit upon her finger. It was never meant for a woman's hand, long and slender, but that of a man. Observing the elaborate ring, she thought of the man of who it belonged.

Aragorn had not aged, or at least not as much as he should have in the years since their eventful trip from Rohan to Lothlorien. The silver that should have been running through his hair and beard like small rivets had only just begun to appear. Though his skin had aged under the light of the sun and the wind, it was almost as if he had been frozen in time. He had grown more mature over the years, and she had seen how he had lost some of the carefree spirit that she had love in him as a child. He held the weight of the world on his shoulders, overseeing the Rangers of the North, watching the paths of the earth for danger.

Up in the sky the star of Eärendil shown brightly, casting all those around it into a shadow at it's brilliance. Someday, she hoped that his heir would release his resentment of his line and take hold of what was his. He was their hope, shining in the sea of a dark sky, blazing like the sun.

 **This chapter is really just a filler before I jump in to LOTR, so heads up!**

 ***I'd like to thank all those who commented on the last chapter, that really was encouraging! Also, a shout out to all those who favorited and followed my story, THANK YOU! It's nice to know that someone likes what I write and how I write it.**

 **So, over this coming weekend my family is going to be getting a dog. A Brittany Spaniel to be exact, and I'm super excited! This will be the first time in over four years since we've had a dog, and all of us are jumping for joy! If I don't post sooner, which I've been doing even though I said it would be every two weeks, the reason is probably because I'm playing with a puppy.**

 **Please review, it makes the muse happy and helps her with ideas!**

 **Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	31. Chapter 29

**And here is the first chapter of LOTR, which I am posting early because I have nothing else to do as I wait for my family to come home with the new puppy! I was at work so I could' t go with to choose out which one we'll be getting...Very sad. His name is Finn, and he is super** **adorbs from what I have heard through text. And yes, I have a dumb phone that doesn't have great pictures so I couldn't see what he looks like very well.**

 **Finn means "white, fair, clean" which, our puppy is supposed to be more white than orange. At first I thought his name meant red head, which I thought was cool, but I must have been reading the wrong name. I haven't told my parents yet, I was the one that came up with the name, oops...**

 **I just hit 100,000 words, WOOHOO!**

 **So, without further ado, and more talk of the anticipated puppy, here is Book II: The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring and Beyond:**

"He is passing into the Shadow world. He'll soon become a wraith like them."

A screech rang through the woods, the hobbits shuddered drawing closer together. They had learned in their short amount of travels that that sound was one to run and flee from. Pippin shuffled closer to Merry, pulling his cloak closer around him and glance around frantically. His innocent mind still shocked by the events upon Weathertop. He fingered the hilt of his sword clumsily, gulping. Sam held onto his master, trying to keep him sitting upright. He tried to help Frodo sip the little water that he had been able to keep away from his companions, going without himself even. He rubbed Frodo's arms in effort to keep him warm, though it did not seem to be helping.

"There close," whispered Merry, his eyes flicking from one point to another.

Frodo gasps, clutching his shoulder, writhing in pain as his eyes rolled steadily turning blue.

Strider turned to the hobbits, his brow dark as he thought, flicking through his mental index of plants. "Sam, do you know the athelas plant?"

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil, aye, it's a weed."

"It may help to slow the poisoning," he said pulling the hobbit off into the darkness and handing him a small torch, "Hurry!"

Strider and Sam ran along the ground, looking a lot like hounds searching for a scent, moving aside bushes and ferns in search of the weed. Sam brushed aside a a fern, glimpsing a bright white flower. Dropping to his knees, Strider yanked out a small knife, cutting off a large chunk of the small bush. Running through the woods, in the east the sun began to rise. Tearing the leaves off the plant he shoves it in his mouth, chewing it hurriedly. Then, spitting it into the palm of his hand he bunched it up with his fingers she lathered it over the stab wound. Frodo screamed, Sam covering his mouth as the ranger continued to apply weed to the wound.

"It is fortunate that we were able to find it," the ranger said as they let Frodo rest a bit longer, though he feared that if they waited to long that the Riders would find them. "It was brought to this land by the Men of the West long ago, and now only grows sparsely here and there."

Sam nodded, tucking the information into the back of his mind for later.

Raising the hobbit up onto the back of Bill, they hurried on. Through the morning they walked, eyes watchful and ears sensitive to even the slightest of hoofbeats. They crossed over streams and climbed of the hills, a chilly wind blew curling around them and taking their breath away. The bright light of the sun blinded them as they tried to look out across the land, eyes seeking out any shadow of a dark rider. The hobbits muttered about missing second breakfast and elevenses, their bottomless stomachs growling loud enough for even the deafest dwarf to hear. Sam continually spoke to Frodo, telling him about the land that they passed through, trying to keep him from passing into the shadow. Strider hurried them along as fast as he dared, the halfling was in dire need of a healer, one better than himself.

It was when the sun had swung around overhead when they heard the sound that spiked fear into their small hearts; the noise of hoofs behind them. Aragorn ushered them up on of the hills, hiding them all behind the fallen logs and large bushes while at the same time giving them a clear sight of the path that they travelled on. They could not see very far behind them on the trail, the winding road and and rolling hills blocking their view of the danger. As quickly as they could the scrambled deep into the heather and laurel bushes, lying flat upon their bellies as Strider perched beneath a leafy tree, eyes glued to the path.

AS they peered out between the branches and leaves of the bushes they listened to the hoof beats come closer and closer, their _clipety-clippety-clip_ against the dirt setting their nerves on edges. The sun had abandoned them behind the clouds, casting the forest into a grey like shadow, the limbs of the trees intertwining to create barrier that not even the slightest ray of light could penetrate. Listening intently, the four hobbits stiffened when on the breeze came the sound of silver like bells, tinkling merrily.

"That don't sound like any Black Rider's horse that we've seen," whispered Pippin, his curiosity causing Merry and Sam to drag him back down into the heather with them. They had been pursued for so long, hunted like a fox by the hounds that they would not chance even the slightest that they be seen by the enemy. Leaning forward eagerly, Strider put a hand to his ear, pushing the hood back so that he might listen better, a smile appearing on his weather worn face.

The _clippety, clippety, clip_ came closer, and the sound of small bells more clear. Suddenly from the bend in the road below a great white horse shot out, it's coat glowing like a flame and banishing the shadows, the breeze making the leaves on the bushes flutter. The rider's cloak was that of a brilliant blue, and his hair like shimmering gold as it fell down his muscular shoulders and flew up in the wind. Sam would muse much later that it looked as if a light seemed to shine through the rider and his stead, as though it was filtered through a veil so that they might not be entirely blinded.

Springing up from his spot, the ranger trotted down the hill, calling out to the rider. But even before the he had spoken, the rider hand turned and raised his hand in greeting. Dismounting, he clasped the man in a tight hug as he called out: _Ai na vedui Dunedin! Mae govannen!_ He speak was so fair and so beautiful to their ears that the hobbits had no doubt within their hearts that they were in the presence of one of the Firstborn, an elf. But listening in to the conversation, though they couldn't understand a word being said, (Frodo might have been if he had been conscious enough), they heard a note of worry within the voice of the beautiful stranger as he spoke urgently with the ranger.

"Where have you been? You are late by ten days, and I have been searching for you for eight and a half! There are five wraiths behind you, where the other four are I do not know," Glorfindel admonished, pulling his young friend into a tight hug.

"We were accosted upon the road, the nine have appeared again to do their masters bidding," the ranger stated.

"They have been moving across the land for a long time, it concerns me though that they would go after such small targets," the elf paused, looking up at the spot in which the four hobbits hid, "Unless one of the carries that which was lost."

"We must hurry, one of the hobbits has been stabbed my a morgul blade, he is fading fast!"

"How long ago?"

"Not four days past, we were camped upon Feathertop."

"It has festered, we must hurry or we will loose him," the elf said urgently.

"Can you not heal him yourself?"

"Nay, I do not have that power, we must get him to Elrond and Thennil."

"How is she?"

"She was the first to set out searching for you and your party when you did not enter the gates the morning upon which we expected," the golden haired elf pulled a slip of paper from his pocket,"She left this for her father urging him to send out those that could withstand the nine in search of you."

The ranger nodded,"Come, let me introduce you to the hobbit whom I have no doubt are panicking like small mice before a stalking cat."

Beckoning the hobbits down from their hiding spot, Strider introduced them, "This is Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of Elrond."

The hobbits jaws dropped in awe, even they had heard the stories about how he had slain the Bulrog and been sent back to Middle Earth.

"Hail, and well met at last,' said the elf-lord, 'I was sent from Rivendell to look for all of you. We feared that you were in danger on the road."

"Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell," Frodo asked, rousing from his pain filled stupor.

"No, he has not, though I do not know if he has since I departed," answered the elf. "Elrond received a note from his daughter, she had been troubled by your lateness, and I see if was for good reason. She had seen that the nine were abroad, and had heard that you were astray bearing a great burden without guidance, for Gandalf had not returned. There are few within Rivendell that are able to ride out openly against the Nine; but such as their were Elrond sent out North, West, and south. Though he tried to keep Thennil from leaving to find you.'

"It was my responsibility to take this road, while the others had to ride through the woods. I have been searching for your trail while I pushed back the servants of Sauron, and had only discovered it two days ago. Today marked where you descended from the hills again. But come! There is no time for further news; your friend fades. I must get him to Elrond, and Thennil who has no doubt sensed his pain."

While he had been speaking, the shadows had deepened as the clouds grew darker and heavier with rain. Frodo had tried to withstand the weariness that had been hanging over his head, but ever since the sun and hidden itself behind the clouds his eyes had grown heavier and heavier, and he could feel the shadow coming between himself and his friends. The pain had started to melt away until all he felt was cold and numbness.

Plucking the hobbit from his precarious perch atop the pony, Glorfindel settled him in front of his saddle. Strider handed him the hilt of the sword that had stabbed the hobbits, wrapped in a thick cloth so that none would accidentally touch it's cursed handle. Glorfindel had shuddered as he had read the foul word engraved upon the hilt, though the eyes of the man could not read them. As he mounted, he looked down at the ranger.

"She worries for you, mellonin, she was afraid that they had found you. Hurry on without rest, your are urgently required in Rivendell," and without another word to the group he urged his horse onward, " _Noro lim, Asfolath,_ _nor lim!"_

"What are they doing?' cried Sam, jumping to his feet and running after his master and the elf, "Those Wraiths are still out there!"

Glorfindel did not look back at the diminishing forms of his young friend and the hobbits, though he caught the chubby one's statement. He could hear the screeching of the Wraiths with his keen hearing even though his friends and the hobbit in his arms could not. But his great steed was faster than they, they soon faded into the background as they sped through the forests and across plains. Looking ahead, he clenched his jaw, picking out a few of their dark forms galloping forward ahead of him which had not been there a moment ago. They had appeared to have come out of the mist, discarding their black hoods and robes in favor of grey and white. Their swords hung naked at their sides and shown with a pale, sickly light in their hands. He could see their cold eyes glitter in the little light that could pierce the mist, their fell voices calling out to one another and to him.

Glorfindel did not fear many things, being more stout of heart than many of his kin. He could feel the darkness crowding around him, trying to snuff out the light of the halfling clinging to his horse. The wind flew past, whistling in his ears, causing the horses mane and his own to snap in the air. Kicking the horse, he wove through the trees, the horses footing precarious as they turned sharper and sharper, their great speed causing it to fight against gravity. With a great spurt of energy, and a flash of blinding white light they leapt forward passing the foremost Rider.

Bursting forward, they plunged into the stream. It frothed about his boots, churning and gurgling as the horse surged forward. It took them but a few moments to splash their way across, and then his steed was hauling them up the opposing bank onto the stony path that would lead them deep into the hills before he would slip away and enter the hidden valley.

Their pursuers were close behind, rushing up to the edge of the ford, their steeds prancing nervously. Glorfindel drew his sword glaring at them, his golden hair whipping across his face as he waited. The foremost Rider urged his horse slowly into the ford, it dancing on it's hoofs in resistance.

"Hand over the halfling, and we will leave you in peace, oh golden child," cried the leader, his voice raspy and sharp as a knife.

"If you want him, come and claim him, spawn of Sauron!" the elf's deep voice thundered across the river.

Thennil paced the halls before the courtyard of her father's house. She could feel it, the evil drew closer and closer by the day, but today she sensed they fading soul of a smaller being. In her dreams she had been urged to return to her home, awaiting the arrival of this halfling. In her mind she could see Glorfindel galloping across the plains on his steed, Asfolath, the Dark Riders not far behind on their black horses. She could almost hear the panting of the horses, the foam dripping from their mouths as their evil riders pushed them harder and harder to catch the hobbit and that which he carried. Opening her eyes she walked along the paths, out onto one of the higher balconies, eyes looking to the North she sensed the approach of the Ring-bearer. Along with it she felt the presence of the riders, closing in as Glorfindel crossed the ford.

She could hear the water flowing down the stones, and with her eyes closed she let her power and that of her people flow through her.

"Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto Beth daer:

Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair!

Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto Beth daer,

Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair!"

Her voice and that of Glorfindel's echoed in her mind, summoning the waters. Over and over she repeated the words, her entire being beginning to glow as she let her power escape over the breeze to aid her friend. Beside her she felt Arwen come to stand next to her, repeating the words with her again and again. Slowly she felt the presence of the riders disappear, moving farther and farther down the river till they were all but gone. Then she felt a sharp pain stab into her shoulder, gasping, she stumbled, eyes snapping open.

"Thennil, what is it? What is wrong?" Her sister cried, catching her arm to help steady her.

"The halfling," she panted, her hand pressing against the age old wound, inhaling heavily, "He has been stabbed, send for Ada, we must prepare."

For what seemed like eternity they worked over the halfling, pulling the darkness from the wound. It was strenuous, taxing. For long hours she and her father used every medicinal herb, spell and incantation. Each helped but a little, but nothing seemed to encourage his soul to remain. Her father was in despair as they tried over and over to heal his mind, his fea. While they worked the other's had arrived within the city, Arwen had escorted them all to their rooms, seeing to their needs. Aragorn soon came seeking information on the halfling, stepping into the room.

He was accosted by the strong smells of the herbs, and the light, starlit feeling of the magic vibrated through the air.

"How is he?"

"We have broken the fever, and cleansed the wound," Elrond stated, washing his hands in a basin.

"Aye, his body has been saved, the poison drawn out from within his soul," he continued, "But we cannot heal his mind, he is slipping away."

"Have you tried-

"We have tried everything," the elf sighed, seating himself on a chair near the bed. he leaned over with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temple with his fingers.

"Not everything," his daughter spoke from the beside.

Elrond snapped his head up, glaring at his daughter, "No, you will not. I forbid it. Have you forgotten what it does to you? How it drains you?"

"I have not forgotten, Ada, but if I can save him-

"Nay, I will not loose you to some shot in the dark, some false hope, it is folly."

She stood up from her seat, her healing robes flying in all directions as she stared at him, her gaze sharper than the sharpest knife. "Why would I be given this gift if not to save those like him? Would you force me to abandon someone who I could cure to save myself the pain?"

"I almost lost you to the darkness long ago, I will not take the chance of loosing you again," he stated, standing up to his towering height, looking down at her now from her shorter standpoint.

"I do not think it is your decision how I use my gift," she whispered, "I am no longer a child wishing to be the hero, I know what it will cost me."

"Thennil. _Thennil. Thennil Orelil!_ " her father reprimanded, "I beg of you-"

She turned from him, using a small part of her power to keep her father in his place along with Aragorn, and moving swiftly to the bed she leaned over the hobbits prone figure. Once she had laid a pale hand over his shoulder and the other on his childish face, she let the power rise up and flow through her fingertips, whispering words softly into the air. Releasing her companions from their places, causing them to waver as their bodies continued on in the way that they had been moving. A steady breeze began to grow around them, Elrond crying out for her to stop as she pulled her hands back, moving her fingers as she extracted the dark, liquid like substance from the halfling. The curtains whipped about wildly, snapping and the golden light glowing from within her began to hum louder and louder, causing the two to cover their ears. The wind was so strong that it knocked over a few vials of medicine that sat on the side table, the crystal bottles crashing to the ground and shattering into a million pieces. She shuddered, feeling the darkness seep into her veins, burning hotter than any fire she had ever experienced, causing her blood to boil.

"Frodo, Im Thennil, Telin let thaed. Lasto beth nin. Tolo dan na ngalad." Her voice echoed like a bell through the room. Then a bright flash of sparkling white light; Elrond and Aragorn gasped, rushing from their places and leaping towards her as she collapsed to the floor like a rag doll.

Elrond cradled his daughter in his arms, brushing back her bright copper curls from her snow white face. He could feel the pain that radiated from her, writhing and screaming just beneath the surface like a snake. Shakily, she raised her hand to brush his smooth jaw with her tremoring fingertips, eyes fluttering, a tear sliding down her face. Her breathing was shallow and filled with pain. Each inhale was like a thousand needles stabbing into her lungs, then something squeezing her chest till it was all pushed out again.

"He will come back, but he will never be the same," she wheezed, "the darkness has already started to effect him. But he is resilient, he will pull through."

Holding her tighter to his body, Elrond stroked his fingers through her hair, "Why? Why must you always sacrifice yourself? Why must you always take the part of the savior?"

"Because so few are willing to do it," she whispered, eyes straining to stay open. It did not take long for her to slip into a deep sleep, cradled close to her father's heart.

Elrond looked over at the bed, watching as the hobbits breathing became easier, more natural. He could not deny that what she had done hadn't helped, but he wished that she would not wipe herself out to do so. Standing, he slipped his arm under her knees holding her shoulders with the other. He made to make for the door, but stopped when he realized that Aragorn still stood near him, watching with great concern in his silvery eyes. Though he had raised the boy as his own son, Elrond did not entirely like the way that he looked at his daughter, but he knew that there was a patient to look after. Thennil would be fine within the care of his foster son, she was merey exhausted.

"Here," he said, practically dropping her in Aragorn's arms.

"What?" the man gapped, ready to drop her, but tightening his hold at the last second as he felt the whole weight of the elleth.

"Take her to her room, put her to bed, she needs to rest," he stated, turning his back on the young man.

"I, uh, wouldn't you want Arwen, or even Elladan or Elrohir to do that?" he asked, unsure.

"Nay, I know you will not disrespect her," he said fluffing the pillows before glancing back and seeing the look shock on Aragorn's face. He chuckled softly, raising his eyebrow, "You're just putting her in her bed, Estel, it's not like you'll be undressing her."

The man's jaw tightened, and he gulped, looking down at the slumbering woman in his arms. "I guess not," he muttered, walking towards the door while carrying her like she was made of glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

Elrond continued to look after the halfling, wondering how his daughter had still not seen the love that this man had for her, shining bright as a new dawn.


	32. Chapter 30

"They are all safe and sound; the last I saw Merry and Pippin were enjoying a good pipe along with plates piled high with all the food they could carry. Sam was here an hour ago, but I sent him off to get some rest. He has not left your side since they came to Imladris." Gandalf stated, gripping the arms of his chair with his gnarled hands.

"What happened after the Ford?' said Frodo, pushing himself up higher in the plush bed, 'I remember Glorfindel speaking, then more voices, and then darkness, but it was so dim, Gandalf, so ghostly."

"It would be. You had started to fade, to leave this world,' answered the wizard,' The wound had started to overcome you at last, though you fought valiantly. A few more hours of it's torture and you would have been lost to us, beyond our aid. But you have strength in you, my dear hobbit! As you showed in the Barrow. That was touch and go; I wish you could have held out at Weathertop."

"You seem to know a great deal already, I have not spoke to Sam and the rest since the Barrow. At first it was to horrible, and after there were things to think about; how did you know about it?"

"You have talked long in your sleep, Frodo, you have since you were a young child," the wizard chuckled as the lad glared up at him,"It has not been hard to ready your mind, and memory. It is no small feat to have come so far, alone for most of the journey, through such dangers, still bearing the Ring."

"We would have never been able to have made it the whole way without Strider," said the hobbit,"And Glorfindel in the end, but I needed you, Gandalf. I was unsure of how to proceed without your guidance."

"I was delayed, my friend, which nearly proved all of our ruin. And yet I am not sure: it may have been better so."

"I wish you would tell me what happened, I'm sure that there is an interesting story behind that look, Uncle Bilbo has said so many times over," Frodo goaded teasingly.

A scuffling and slapping of bare feet upon the ground echoed through the halls. A muffled voice asked questions outside the door, shouting for joy before the door was pushed open, swinging on it's hinges. In ran the chubby hobbit, his hair uncombed and tussled form his short reprieve, eyes wild as he searched the room. His eyes lit up like fireworks, lunging forward he threw his short arms around his friend.

"Frodo! Frodo! Bless me, you're awake!" he cried joyously, bouncing gently on the bed.

"Sam has hardly left your side," Gandalf reiterated, smiling down at the two friends.

"We were worried about you-he glanced over at the wizard-weren't we, Mr. Gandalf?"

"By the skills of Lord Elrond and Lady Thennil, you are almost mended. He and she both tended you for days."

"Days?" gasped the hobbit.

"Well, five nights and four days to be exact. Glorfindel brought you from the ford on the night of the nineteenth, and that is where you lost count because of delirium. They brought down your fever, and removed the poison that dwelled within the wound. Elrond is a master of healing, but the weapons of our enemy are deadly. To tell you the truth, I had very little hope. You were fading even after we had drawn out the poison. It was only Lady Thennil that realized that the poison had not only effected your physical body, causing you to fade, but it had seeped into your fea, your life source, and was steadily draining the life from you. There had been a splinter that could not be found, a fragment, and only after that did the fever wane and the wound begin to close. Elrond took that out the night before last."

Frodo shuddered, remembering the atrocity that had caused him so much pain. Just imagining the blade in his mind made him nauseas. It was a great relief to him when out of the shadows stepped the very lord who had helped save his life, providing him distraction. The tall lord strode over to his bed, looking down at the two hobbits, nodding to Gandalf in greeting. Both Sam and Frodo marveled at the agelessness of his face and form, they were still smooth and taunt, the muscles defined. Though he did not look very old, his silver grey eyes belied his age, for within their swirling depths was both gladness and sorrow. He bowed at the waist, looking over his patient with the eyes of a healer.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins."

Sitting up straighter, feeling himself in the presence of one of the greatest beings of middle earth, Frodo had to keep his jaw from hitting the ground. Was every ellons voice as musical and gentle to the ear as Glorfindel's?

"I would like to thank you for the hospitality that you have shown myself and my friends," Frodo spoke, his small voice sounding even softer in the large room, "Especially for the saving of my life."

"I was an honor, young Master Frodo," the elf lord, bowed again, though not as low, "It was nice to see and meet you, Master Bilbo has spoken much of you, how you have matured and grown. He is extremely proud of you."

Frodo blushed, his pale cheeks brightening up into a blazing red. "Uh, um, I wouldn't trust everything that Uncle Bilbo says..."

Then, looking around, the hobbit realized that there was one party missing from the elves. "Where is Lady Thennil? I wish to thank her for playing such a large part in my recovery."

The elf stiffened at the woman name, but quickly masked whatever feelings that came up with the mention of her name,"At this moment I am unaware of where she if, though I wouldn't doubt that she is somewhere near the Hall of Fire, where I also assume your friends are also."

The halls of her father's house were filled to the brim with people, though the majority were of elven kind. Scattered among her people were those of many races. As the custom of their house went, her father sat at one end upon a dais, his tall form towering over those in the room as he observed the merriment of their people. Next to him sat Gandalf, his normal grey robes plain next to those of her own father and friend, Glorfindel. Her father had been spoken of in many tales, , and she knew that many of their guests were amazed to see him sitting upon his throne. His ageless countenance, neither old nor young, though if one looked into his eyes they would see the many ages that he had witnessed, the battles he had seen, and the people that had been lost. Her father's hair was like the shadows of twilight, dark and mysterious, and upon his head sat a silver circlet; his eyes clears as the evening sky, and in them was the light of the brightest silver stars. His hands were smooth, and strong, having seen many battles and being a tried and true warrior.

She giggled at the stark contrast between Gandalf and Glorfindel compared to her father yet again, it was something that would never get old no matter how long she lived. He was shorter than both her father and Glorfindel by a head and a little; but his long white hair and thick grey beard along with his bushy eyebrows, making him look similar to that of an old, wise king. Glorfindel was as tall and as straight as a willow; his long golden hair a striking contrast to the many dark heads the were prominent throughout Imladris. His face was fair and young and fearless, full of joy; his eyes shown brightly under the many lights of the hall and his voice was like one the most beautiful instruments that you have ever heard. Upon his regal brow sat wisdom, and in his right hand strength. Beside all of her friends, sat the young halfling that she had helped save. He was dressed in fine clothes, that which she had a feeling had been taken in and shortened from some of her brothers' old things. He looked terribly uncomfortable sitting up with all of her kindred, squirming from time to time. Though he smiled, it seldomly reached his eyes unless it was one or another of his small friends that spoke with him. Ever so often his eyes would wander over to his friends at one of the lower tables, a longing in his gaze.

Her eyes wandered over to her own sister, seated beneath a canopy of the finest clothes. She was clothed in one of her favorite dresses, a pale blue gown that shimmered like a thousand stars. Her long hair had been braided simply and slung over one shoulder, a few strands left out to soften the stark contrast between her long face and the tight braid. Sitting so straight and proper, Thennil wondered if her sister's back ever hurt from keeping the position so long. She looked like a queen, full of wisdom and knowledge, her glance filled with the insight of what was to come. On her head was a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; her gown had no ornament but a girdle of leaves wrought in silver made by one of her many admirers. She was incredibly beautiful, perfection in the flesh.

Thennil shifted uncomfortably in her seat among the dwarves, pulling at her own gown wondering if she should have chosen better. It was a simple gown of deep pine green with trim of a light beech color stitched into tiny leaves. A belt of the same stitching as the trim was tied twice about her waist, complementing its slenderness and emphasizing her hourglass shape. The sleeves of the underdress were a pale cream color, peaking out from the many folds of the long draping sleeves of the overdress as they trailed to the floor. She had let her hair go free for the night, only keeping the braids in that had been put there by the dwarves so long ago. The curls and waves had become a wild untamed mess in the absence of the many oils that she used to keep it workable, along with the tight braid she always wore it in while out with the rangers.

Moving from table to table as the hostest of the feast in Frodo's honor, she asked how everyone was fairing. Did they need more wine? more meat? Was the music to their enjoyment? and many such questions. She was attentive to their guests, making sure that everyone was as comfortable as possible. She helped with the serving, laughing with the dwarves and asking about the families of the men who had come from near and far. She had a smile for everyone, but her eyes were continually searching the persons with whom she spoke for any sign of an enemy. She was cautious, a lioness guarding her cubs fiercely.

Carrying her tray, she made her way to Gloin where he sat next to Frodo at the high table, the ale in the job she had being one of his favorites. Setting the tray down upon the table with a slight tap, she lifted the jug and began to refill the cup of her friend. She listened intently as he spoke of his King, Thorin, and their beloved Queen, Mariam, along with all their children. He spoke of the two princes, Fili and Kili and their own families that had formed over the past sixty some years. She smirked when she heard of how Kili was commonly seen running after his own children along with his young cousins who were of similar age. Chuckling, she shook her head at the many antics that her friend recounted.

"I would have thought that the children would have been chasing Kili, Gloin," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"Lassie!" Cried the dwarf, twisting around faster than she thought was possible for a dwarf getting to his age. His white streaked beard wagged as he knocked his head against her own. "It has been some time since you visited the mountain, the Queen has asked after you over and over again, sending numerous letters. She worries."

She masked her guilt with a cleverly places smile, then winked,"I know, but I was called elsewhere."

"Thorne was asking after you, you promised him lessons after he turned fifty-five. His Adad has taught him everything he knows, but he wants to know how you fight," he stated. Frodo had almost been forgotten at this point, but he didn't mind at all. His jaw was on the ground as he watched them converse without drawing blades because one or the other felt offended. Bilbo had told him about his journey and about the great animosity between the dwarves and elves; this was flabbergasting.

Here, she truly laughed, a deep, slivery laugh, like small and large bells ringing together to create a beautiful melody. "I know, and I still plan on teaching him, but I really could not tear myself away. You know what I do, and I was on a mission of utmost importance." she turned serious.

"I know, and he says he understands, but I think he just misses his favorite aunt," he stated.

"I'm his only aunt, may Dis rest in Mahal's house," she said, sadness creeping into her voice. Dis had passed from the land of the living not a few years past, and she had not been able to attend the funeral because she had been scouting far to the south, near Mordor. She had written letters of encouragement to her friends, comforting them in their loss. Fili and Kili had been angry with her, missing the funeral, but when she had sent a secret message through a moth to them explaining the reasons, their anger had calmed. Eventually she had been forgiven, and the peace regained from their anger.

"Gloin, what has become of Balin, Ori, and Oin?" asked Frodo, drawing the attention of the dwarf back to himself.

Gloin did not speak for a moment, his eyes misting over and a shadow passing over his once merry face,"We do not know," he answered, causing Thennil to because anxious, "It is largely on account of Balin that I have come to ask the advice of those that dwell in Rivendell." he looked pleadingly up at Thennil, then glancing at the worried face of the hobbit forces a smile, "But tonight let us speak of merrier things!"

She gave him a look that said:'I want to know more later, and you will not withhold anything', before moving away to refill someone else goblet.

Soon the feast came to an end. The dishes cleared away, and the food eaten or packed into the iceboxes and cellars of the kitchens for later. Her father and Arwen rose and walked to the end of the hall, the company of people falling after them like ducklings after their mother. With the help of a few other elves, the doors were thrown open, and the walked through a hallway and through another set of carved doors, and came into the further hall, that which is and was called the Hall of Fire. Here there were no tables, but a brightly lit fire, the hearth set between carved pillars upon either side. Slowly, groups of twos, threes, and fours broke off and moved to sit or lean against the outer walls, chatting or discussing things of importance. She smiled when she saw the white haired head of a particular hobbit reclining on one side of the room, leaning over something intently. Undoubtably he was composing a new song, hopefully to be sung in the halls that night.

Flitting from one group to the next like a butterfly from flower to flower she asked if they wanted anything to drink or a small snack, her gown making her blend in with the shadows. Seeing that Frodo had found Bilbo, she left them to speak in the comfort of their bubble, Sam sneaking in to join his friend as the evening wore on. Slipping along in the shadows, much like herself, came Estel, or Aragorn as he preferred to be called now. She moved quickly, stepping in front of him and raising an eyebrow much like her father did when she was about to get into deep trouble. Aragorn paused, glancing up at her once, then twice to gauge her moody, finding that she was not in fact angry with him, he smiled tentatively.

"How are you?" he asked, looking her up and down, glancing around the room, finding Arwen seated next to her father and looking over their guests.

"I bit tired,' she replied, settling the jug of wine on her hip,"but that is to be expected when playing at hostess."

He smiled again, and taking the jug, handed it off to one of the other elleths that were serving the many guests. She glared at him, hands on her hips, eyebrow even higher.

"Come,' he said, grabbing her hand and placing it in the crook of his elbow,'It is time that you took a break and enjoyed yourself."

"Doing what?" she asked as he led her along the shadows, through the groups of people clustered around speaking.

"Why, relaxing, or do you not know what that is?" he teased, raising his eyebrow.

She chuffed, the laughed softly,"What would I do without you?"

"Work yourself to death," he joked, elbowing her gently.

Looking him over much like his mother would have done, she surveyed his clothing. He wore an over tunic of deep green, and trousers of a deep black with comfortable boots of the same color. His shoulder length hair had been washed and combed neatly, and his beard, which had grown long in his time out in the wilds as a ranger, had been trimmed up to the point where it was a little longer than stubble. Reaching out, she adjusted his collar, and smoothed the front of the tunic that he wore of any wrinkle that had been there. She nodded her head, laying her hand on his arm as they continued to walk through the halls.

"Checking me over before I make my entrance like when I was a child?" he asked, smiling, the teasing twinkle in his eye begging her to make a smart retort.

She rolled her eyes, "Just making sure that someone has checked over your clothes, who knows what you'd come dressed in and Ada saw you."

He cringed,"Lord Elrond has always been strict when it comes to dinner clothes."

"And that is why all of us always double and triple checked your clothes before going down to dinner," she laughed.

They came to a stop before the hobbits, who were so deep in discussion about their homeland that they didn't notice them. Standing their they both listened intently as Frodo told Bilbo all about what was happening in the Four Farthings, from the smallest child's latest prank to the latest tree that had been cut down in Buckland. Every now and then he was corrected by Sam in regards to this fact and that, and continued to speak until Bilbo looked up.

"Ah, there you are at last, Dunadan!" he cried, then noticing Thennil next to his friend, he bowed,"And it is always a pleasure to see you, Lady Thennil."

"Strider!' cried Frodo in confusion, 'You seem to have a lot of names."

She chuckled as Bilbo spoke again, "Well, _Strider_ is one that I haven't heard before, anyway. What do you call him that for?"

"They called me that in Bree," Aragorn said laughing, his deep voice echoing off the pillars, "and that is how I was introduced to him."

"And why do you call him Dunadan?" Frodo asked, turning to his uncle slightly, but still staring at the beautiful elf beside the ranger in awe. He was sure that he had seen her somewhere before, though where he was unsure.

" _The_ Dunadan,' said Bilbo, 'He is often called that here, though Lady Thennil and her family call him by another name. But I though you knew enough Elvish at least to know _dunadan_ : Man of the West, Numenorean. But this is not the time for lessons," he stated, giving Frodo the 'teachers eye'. He turned to Aragorn and Thennil, "Where have you been, my friend? Weren't you at the feast?" He looked over to Thennil, who was gazing around the room looking for the servers, and nodded his head towards her as if to say 'she was there, you oaf.'

"I know,' he said, 'But often I must put mirth aside. Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings that I wished to hear at once."

Thennil snapped around, shock written all over her face. They had returned? And so suddenly?

"Well, my dear fellow,' said Bilbo, 'now you've heard the news, can't you spare me a moment? I wanted your help in something urgent. Elrond says this song of mine is to be finished before the end of the evening, and I am stuck. I have one for you also, My Lady," he added as almost an after thought, 'Let us three go off into a corner and polish it up!"

Smiling, she wondered what the dear halfling had come up for her to sing this evening.

 _"But on him mighty doom was laid,_

 _till Moon should fade, and orbed star_

 _to pass, and tarry never more_

 _on Hither Shores where mortals are;_

 _for ever still a herald on_

 _an errand that should never rest_

 _to bear his shining lamp afar, the Flammifer of Westernesse."_

Bilbo finished chanting his song, and smiled at those who were seated around him. He crossed his arms and threw a triumphant look at Lord Elrond across the room.

"Now, we had better have it again," said an elf.

Standing from his chair, Bilbo bowed at the waist, "I'm flattered, Lindir, but it would be too tiring to repeat it all.'

"Not too tiring for you,' the others answered laughing. "You know you are never tired of reciting your own verses. But really we cannot answer your questions at one hearing!"

"What!" cried the halfling. 'You can't tell which parts were mine, and which where the Dunadan's?"

"It is not overly easy for us to tell the difference between two mortals," said another elf.

"Nonsense, Lindir," snorted the hobbit, rolling his eyes. "If you can't distinguish between a Man and a Hobbit, your judgement is poorer than I imagined. They're as different as peas and apples!"

"Maybe. To sheep other sheep no doubt appear different,' here she snorted, always back to the sheep comparison did Lindir jump, 'Or to shepherds. But Mortals have not been our study. We have other business."

"I won't argue with you,' replied the hobbit. "I am tired after so much music and singing, not counting all the time I spent trying to get that blasted song done. But I've finished another song not long ago, one that I think Lady Thennil will be able to sing beautifully!" Here he beckoned Thennil out from the shadows where she and Aragorn sat beneath a pillar.

"Really, Bilbo, you should sing it, no I,' she told the halfling, ruffling his white curls lovingly.

"Nay, you have the right voice range that this song requires,' he replied.

"As you wish, mellonin,' she shook her head, standing next to him and fidgeting with her dress, wishing once again that she had worn something a bit more elegant.

O where shall I gae seek my bred?  
Or where shall I gae wander?  
O where shall I gae hide my head?  
For here I'll bide nae langer.  
The seas may row, the winds may blow,  
And swathe me round in danger,  
My native land I must forego,  
And roam a lonely stranger.

The glen that was my father's own,  
Must be, by his, forsaken,  
And the house that was my father's home  
Is leveled with the brake.  
Ochon ochon, our glory's oer,  
Stole by a mean deceiver,  
Our hands are on the broad claymore,  
But might is broke forever.

And thou my King, my injured King,  
Thy people have ye disowned,  
Have hunted and have driven hence  
With ruined chiefs all around.  
Though hard beset, when I forget  
Thy fate, young helpless rover,  
This broken heart shall cease to beat  
And all its griefs be over.

Farewell, farewell, dear Caledon  
Land of Gael no longer!  
A stranger fills thy ancient throne,  
In guile and treachery stronger.  
Thy brave, thy just, fall in the dust,  
On ruin's brink they quiver,  
Heaven's pitying ee is closed on thee,  
Novaer, Novaer uireb."

Holding her breath, she waited for the applause that normally accompanied all of Bilbo's songs. silence reigned in the hall, and her father was looking at her solemnly. She could feel the tension, and she saw Arwen wipe a tear from her eye, watched as it dripped slowly down her finger and splashed to the floor, the sound loud to her keen hearing. Ever so slowly the guests started to clap, some with tears in their eyes and sad smiles on their faces, other's with bittersweet memories in their minds. Curtsying, she nodded to Bilbo before disappearing through one of the many doors that were along the edge of the great room.

She ran down the paths, slipping through the flowers and ferns before coming to a stop deep in her father home. Leaning against one of the pillars, she let out a long breath. She knew the song by heart, and had a part in writing it, but Bilbo had been the one to put the finishing touches to it. He had asked about her life, and in a sense, had put a portion of it into song, a song that he had asked her to sing. A few tears escaped her blue eyes, finding their way down her pale cheeks as she looked up at the sky, to the stars. Drawing her hands together, she fiddled with the ring that sat upon her index finger, twisting it around and around while feeling each and every design with her sensitive fingertips. She brought it up and twister her hand this way and that in the moonlight, noticing how it would twinkle when the light hit it the right way, just like it would when she was admiring it around her campfires over the years.

 _I'm going to need to give this back to him,_ she thought, _the time has come for him to take the path that he has been avoiding all this time, even if he does not want to._

A scuffing noise echoed on the terrace, and turning she peaked around the side of the pillar. There was Aragorn, crouching low, trying to creep along the edge as noiselessly as possible. She smiled, turning back to the sky while waiting for him to finally get to her. She could just hear his breathing, soft though it was. Smoothing her green dress out, she waited.

"BOOO!" he cried, jumping up and leaping towards her. Only he didn't exactly calculate how close he was. Stumbling, he almost landed on top of her, his arms shooting out and plastering his hands against the pillar on either side of her body. He was breathing hard now, and she could feel it on the side of her neck.

"You tried so hard," she chuckled, a hand jumping up to cover her mouth in effort to stifle the giggles that wanted to burst forth.

He groaned,"Will I never be able to sneak up on you?"

"I highly doubt it, Estel, I can always hear you coming," she said, looking up to where his eyes would be. She inhaled sharply as she came face to face with him, feeling his hot breath on her pale cheeks. A heat began to grow in her chest, growing and morphing, reaching up her neck and brushing her white cheeks and turning them rosy, like she had gone for a run. She never blushed. She fidgeted, she fiddled, and avoided peoples eyes, but she did not blush. Period.

"I don't know if you saw that coming," she thought she heard him whisper, but she must have been mistaken as he moved back from their estranged position.

She slipped away from him, walking out onto the bridge, the moonlight filtering down and enveloping her in it's glowing light. Following, he stepped next to her as she looked out over her home, tracing the many towers and paths with her eyes. He smiled when he saw that she still wore the ring upon her finger, gleaming and clean.

"That was a lovely song that you sang," he whispered.

"Aye, if I had know that Bilbo was going to make me sing it when he began writing it I would have refrained from telling him about myself further," she muttered.

He nodded silently, she had been like this even when he was a child.

She looked up at him, turning. Reaching for the ring on her finger, she spoke, "I've been meaning to give this back to you."

She went to pull it off, but his hand covered hers, "I wanted you to have it, to keep it safe."

Not daring to look up at hi, she stared at his chest. "I know, but I think that you will be needing it in the days to come. You can give it back to me when you no longer need it, not before."

"And why would I need it?" He asked, trying to keep her from removing the ring, failing utterly as she was too fast.

Dropping it in his hand, she looked up into his silvery-blue eyes, mesmerizing as always. She was quiet as he looked down at the ring.

"You cannot give me this!"

"It was placed in my keeping, never being mine to begin with," _just like my heart._ She closed his fingers, adding a necklace subtly adding a necklace of her own in the process. Leaning forward, she kisses his cheek.

Freezing, Aragorn relished in the feeling of her lips on his cheek. He blinked, and realized that she had disappeared down one of the many paths that ran through the city, gone like the mist when the sun rises. As he opened his hand, he felt his heart clench at the two objects that lay in his palm.

 **So, another chapter, yay! So happy!**

 **The song/poem Thennil sings is called the Highlanders Farewell, I just changed the words prince to King and a few other lines minutely to make it fit with the story. I really can imagine Bilbo writing her a song, and including Aragorn in there somewhere.**

 **Thank you all who reviewed, I really appreciated it.**

 **So, I don't know if anyone is wondering about the types of clothing people are wearing. I know a lot of you have see LOTR and the Hobbit, so you have some idea what people look like, but if you want to know more you can search: Thennil Oriel Character Inspiration on Pinterest. That will bring you to the board that has all of the pictures that I've pinned for her character and the close that she wears. If anything has a title, like Thennil Council Tunic Complete, then it is apart of an outfit that I've created for her. If you have a dress or something that you think would fit her character, please send it to me, I love inspiration! Also, if you look at my other boards I have stuff pinned for each culture as I imagine it.**

 **So, have fun!**

 **Please review and let me know what you think. This is my longest chapter yet, 5342 words in all including what I've written in bold. So, around 5200 something if you take this out.**

 **Review!**

 **Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	33. Chapter 31

**Please be aware that this chapter is that of the Council. It is going to seem long and at times you'll be asking yourself "Why is she writing this?". I really wish the Peter Jackson had put more emphasis on this part of the movie, it being a huge part of the why of the quest. Everyone was bringing their information and it was set before all the people. So yes, this might seem to be long, and tedious.**

Thennil yanked on one of her best tunics, grumbling as she tugged it over her head. After that she walked over the her dressing table and seated herself on the stool before it. Groaning she leaned her head over the dressing table, her hands running through her long, tangled, mane of hair. Of all the times that they had to have a council, it had to be today, right after she had been up late looking after the food preparation for the morning meal. Elves did not need much sleep, and when they slept it was either very light, or so deep that one wondered if they would ever wake. She had been awake for days, not needing sleep since her rest from healing the halfling. Last night she had been sitting on the edge of her balcony, closest to the door leading to her room, when she had dozed off beneath the twinkling stars.

She looked up at the mirror and sighed, wondering if she would be able to tame her hair in time to look presentable. Reaching forward she snatched up the first oil in her long line of hair products. She scooped up a large gob of the gelatinous liquid and rubbed it between her hands before running it through her long hair, effectively removing the many knots that had formed with a comb or her fingers. After letting the oil sit in her hair for a time, she pulled out her boar bristle brush that she had gotten from her mother when she was one hundred and twenty, the year she had been able to start looking for a husband among her people. She pulled it through each stroke, counting in her head until she reached three hundred; setting the brush down she picked up another one of her hair products, a mixture of flaxseed, rosemary, lavender, and a small amount of lemon oil. Spraying it out of the glass bottle over her long hair, she brushed through it again, smiling when her hair fell into ringlets and curls over her shoulders. Quickly, she began to separate parts of her hair to braid, adding the many dwarves braids to her hair along with pulling her hair back into a half-up style, exposing her cheekbones.

Standing, she walked to the window and peered out into the city through the sheer curtains. It was so quiet, so still. Glancing down onto the path that ran under her window, she gasped softly, and withdrew as quickly as possible. Leaning against the wall, she peaked around the corner, catching a glimpse of the person seated at the foot of the massive oak tree that grew outside her window. She pulled at the short tunic, the piece of clothing only reaching a few inches above her knee, leaving her long legs exposed. Her breath was coming in short pants, and sweat gathered on her brow as she listened for his leaving footsteps.

 _Curses!_ she thought, slinking around the room to her wardrobe and snatching out a pair of blackish green trousers to wear beneath her tunic. _What is he doing looking into my room at this time in the morning?_

Adjusting the tunic, she buckled on the leather bodice, fiddling with the straps in the back. She buckled on her sword belt, and thought of adding a dagger or two in case there was a spy amongst their group. She knew that her father wanted a peaceful meeting, not like the ones that she would have with the white wizard and her grandmother. Putting the finishing touches to her outfit, she turned slowly while looking in the mirror, and nodded her head. She was ready.

Choosing a seat was not something that she had ever wanted to do, as she felt that she could sit beside any of the three groups that had come to the council. The elves because they were her people, her blood kin; the dwarves because she had helped them through their exile and raised their queen and become known as one of the only elves to be called friend; and the men because she had watched over their kingdoms for longer than all of them put together. Her father would expect her to sit at his side, but that was not her place. Walking to the last seat in the large semi-circle she settled herself into the stone chair, and watched as the others trickled in slowly. Once they were all assembled, her father entered and seated himself in the chair before a pedestal. With the motioning of his hand, a single, clear bell was rung, calling the ringbearer.

As Gandalf and the halfling strode into the council chambers, everyone looked on gravely. Many of her people were seated there in silence, gazing upon the one who had carried the ring so far, and had suffered so much. Most of the group was dressed in fine garments, silks and satins, their tunics and robes pressed and wrinkle-less. Elrond rose, and beckoned the hobbit to a seat near him, Gandalf taking one not far away.

"Strangers from distant lands...friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the three of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite...or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate...this one doom."

Everyone was silent, staring at the solemn lord in his shimmering robes.

"Here, my friends, is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither though greater peril or on an errand more urgent." Her father then pointed out those whom sat within the circle that Frodo had not met at the feast the night before. There was a younger dwarf at Gloin's side: his son Gimli. Thennil saw Legolas twitch at the name, undoubtably remembering the insults that he had thrown at Master Gloin while in Mirkwood so long ago. Beside Glorfindel there were sever of her fathers friends and councilors, of whom Erestor was the chief; with him was Galdor, and Elf from the Grey Havens who had come on an errand from Cirdan the Shipwright. Then there was Legolas, clad in green and brown, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, Mirkwoods king. Seated next to him were different men from among the North and South, but the most stunning of them all was a tall man with fair face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, proud and stern of glance.

The man was clocked and booted just as if he had come from a long journey, which she assumed that he had, many of them had to travel a fair way to come to this council. His garments were rich, lined with fur here and there, but they were stained from long travel, and his shoulders were weary. On his knees sat a great white horn, tipped with silver, which had been rubbed till it shown.

"Here,' her father stated, turning to Gandalf, but also nodding to her, 'his Boromir, a man from the South. He arrived in the grey this morning, and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered."

Not everything that was spoken of and debated within the Council need now be told. Much was said about the events of the world outside, especially in the South, and in the wide lands to the east of the Mountains. Thennil herself spoke of the lands of Mordor, how over the past forty and more years the Nazgul had brought in slaves to work the slops along the inland sea that was contained within it's mountains. How they had steadily been gathering orcs and goblins to their stronghold, slowly building an army year by year. She knew of the troubled hearts of the Dwarves, having visited her family there many years before. She had felt the shadow.

"It is now many years ago,' spoke Gloin, 'that a shadow of disquiet fell upon our people, though our King and his Queen tried to dispel it with help from the outside. Whence it came we did not at first perceive. Words began to be whispered in secret: it was said that we were hemmed in a narrow place, and that greater wealth and splendor would be found in a wider world. Some spoke of Moria: the mighty works of our fathers that are called in our own tongue Khazad-dum; and they declared that now at last we had the power and numbers to return.'

He sighed, pulling on his beard. "Moria! Moria! Wonder of the Northern world! Too deep we delved there, and woke the nameless fear. Long have its vast mansions lain empty since the children of Durin fled. But now we spoke of it again with longing, and yet with dread; for no dwarf has dared pass the doors he perished. At last, however, Balin listened to the whispers, and resolved to go; and though Thorin did not give leave willingly, nor his wife, for she loved the dwarf like a father, he took with him Ori and Oin and many of our folk and went away south.'

"That was nigh on thirty years ago. For a while we had news and it seemed good: messages reported that Moria had been entered and a great work begun there. Then there was silence, and no word has ever come from Moria since.'

"Then about year or so ago a messenger came to Thorin, but not from Moria-from Mordor: a horseman in the night, who called Thorin to his gate. The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. rings he would give for it, such as he gave of old. And he asked urgently concerning _hobbits,_ of what kind they were, and where they dwelt. 'For Sauron knows,' said he, 'that one of these was known to you at a time.'

"At this our Queen was greatly troubled, and we gave no answer. And then his fell voice was lowered, and he would have sweetened it if he could,'As a small token only of your friendship Sauron asks this,' he said,'that you should find this thief,' such was his word, 'and get from him, willingly or unwillingly, a little ring, the least of rings, that once he stole. It is but a trifle that Sauron fancies, and an earnest of your good will. Find it and three rings that the Dwarf-sires possessed of old shall be returned to you, and the realm of Moria shall be yours for ever. Find only news of the thief, whether he still lives and where, and you shall have great reward and lasting friendship with him. Refuse, and things will not seem so well. Do you refuse?'

"At that his breath came like the hiss of snakes, and all who stood by shuddered, but Thorin said: 'i say neither yea nor nay. I must consider this message and what it means under its fair cloak.'

" 'Considered well, but not too long," said he.

" 'The time of my thoughts is my own to spend,' answered our king."

Thennil smirked, it was just like Thorin to sound arrogant like that. But the horseman troubled her, and she had no doubt that it was one of the Wraiths in disguise. She mourned for Balin, Ori, and Oin. If she had only checked up on them, she had visited them one, but that had been when they were still fighting the goblins to gain possession over Moria, and had not see much of the great kingdom. She thought about the bookish lad that had accompanied Thorin and his company across the mountains to take back their lost kingdom, and knew that he had tagged along to keep a history of the happenings as they moved forward into Moria.

Lost deep in thought, she perked up as she heard Gloin tell the reasons for his presence.

"And so, I have been sent at last by Thorin and Mariam to warn Bilbo that he is sought by the Enemy, and to learn, if may be, why he desires this ring, this least of rings. Also, we crave the advice of Elrond. Many times our King and Queen have sought advice from Ushmar, who has always had many word of wisdom. but the Shadow grows and draws nearer. We discover that messengers have come also to King Brand in Dale, and that he is afraid. We fear that he may yield. Already war is gathering on his eastern borders. If we make no answer, the Enemy may move Men of his rule to assail King Brand, and Thorin also."

And so it went, each person revealing what had happened within their realm, messages that had been sent and threats that had been handed out by the dark riders. Gandalf told of the betrayal of Saruman, and his imprisonment within Isengard. She listened intently to his tale all the while mentally saying 'I told you so.' Her Father must have heard a few of her thoughts, and shot her a stern glare, which she shook her head at, her hood covering her face in shadow. Her father told the story of the First War of the Ring, and how they had defeated Sauron, and the loss of the ring. He told of the great loss of their people as they had battled Sauron, and the death of his nephew, many times removed. He spoke of the fall of Gil-galad and how his spear was broken, how his fall greatly effected his soldiers who had loved their great King. He spoke of Isildur and how he took the ring, it's power ensnaring him, refusing to cast the evil circlet of golden metal into the forges of Mount Doom. Then Bilbo was brought for to tell of the finding of the ring. He was supported by a chair on his right side as he spoke. He did not omit a single thing, from how he had tumbled down from Goblin town, to discovering the creature Gollum, the riddles that they threw back and forth upon which winning the game had been his main goal, the looser being eaten by the creature. He would have given a full account of how he had left his home in the Shire on his eleventy-first birthday if her father had not stopped him, he was a rather enthusiastic storyteller. It was after Frodo had spoken of how he had acquired it through Bilbo that Elrond took back the reigns of the story, jumping back in time to tell of the southern realms, of Gondor most specifically, and recalled it's greatness, and it's steady decline since the line of kings had been broken. It was with bitterness and despair that he recounted it's demise, and this infuriated the proud man of Gondor. He made to stand, but Lord Elrond raised his eyebrow in question, thus silencing him with a harsh stare.

"Frodo, bring forth the ring,' he spoke, voice grave.

There was a hush, and all eyes turned to the small halfling. Unsteadily he stood from his seat, a great shame and fear taking hold of him. It was visible to Thennil that he was reluctant to part with the ring, and yet he was loathed to touch it with his hands at the same time. It was as if there were two people within his body, one who craved the ring, and one who despised it to the ends of Middle Earth. The Ring flickered and shimmered as he pulled it over his head from beneath his overskirt, his hand trembling as he walked to the plinth, dropping the Ring upon it, the soft clanging of it's landing magnified in the silence.

"So it is true!' cried Boromir, eyes glinting as he gazed at the golden ring in awe, 'The halfling,' he muttered softly to himself, 'Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last? But why then should we seek a broken sword?"

"Sauron's Ring! The Ring of Power!" gasped one of the elves in disbelief.

"The doom of man!" stated Gimli, glaring at the ring.

Thennil reached for her head as a humming sound began to grow louder and louder, reaching her hand to her ears as she leaned over and closed her eyes. She could feel the dark presence radiating and spiking out into the circle, and many of the others heard it also. Standing, Boromir slowly began to approach the ring, as if in a trace, drawn to it's power.

In a soft voice, he began to speak, second by second drawing near to the pedestal,"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: You're doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found."

She glanced at her father, then Gandalf, then back to Boromir. He stretched out his hand and went to touch the ring. "Isildur's Bane."

"Boromir!" her father yelled, standing to his feet.

Standing to his feet at the same time, along with Thennil, Gandalf began to speak:

"Ash nazg dubatuluk,

ash nazg gimbatul,

ash nazg thrakatuluk,

as burzum-ishi krimpatul!"

The sky darkened, thunder rumbling across the darkness. The ground began to shake around them, causing Thennil, who was quite nimble, to stumble. Grabbing onto the arm of her chair she gasped, holding her head with her other hand, eyes closed tightly as the words echoed around her, calling to the ring. She felt sick to her stomach, and clutched the chair arm tighter.

As Gandalf's words faded, nature returned to normal. The sky lightened, the birds began to sing again, and Thennil was able to breath properly again. Her Father turned to glare at the wizard, his gaze flickering to his daughter every few seconds with mild concern.

"Never before has any voice uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond,' Gandalf stuttered, his own lungs dragging in air that had been pushed violently out, 'For the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil."

Shaking his head, Boromir gazed with the same amount of fascination at the ring, "It is a gift...a gift to the foes of Mordor!' he stood, 'Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay..by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy...let us use it against him!"

"You cannot weird it," Aragorn's stern voice swept over the council, causing Boromir to turn to him, 'No one can. The One Ring answers to Sauron along...it has no other master."

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" asked Boromir cooly, a hint of disgust in his voice. Aragorn said nothing, only kept staring at the man. Legolas leapt from his seat robes swishing around him, his movements abrupt, catching the attention of Boromir.

"This is no mere Ranger,' he stated, letting a small bit of his anger show, 'He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Turning sharply, Boromir sliced Aragorn with his gaze, uttering in disbelief, "Aragorn? _This_ is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor."

"Have dad, Legolas..." Aragorn, waved his hand down towards his friends seat, shaking his head.

"Gondor has no king,' stated the man arrogantly, 'Gondor needs no king."

Seating himself back into his chair, the man leaned his chin upon his hand, glancing from time to time at Aragorn across the circle. Thennil sighed, so this was the son of Denethor, who at one time had been a strong and righteous man, fighting for his people. He had raised a great warrior in Boromir, that she could tell by the way he held himself and how he seemed to be the only one who spoke among the men, but his heart, she wondered who had helped to tend that part of him. She knew that his mother had died in childbirth with his youngest sibling, though she couldn't remember if it had been a boy or girl.

"Aragorn is right, we cannot use it." stated Gandalf, leaning on his staff.

"You have only one choice, the Ring must be destroyed."

Gimli stood suddenly, grabbing his axe from the floor. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Rushing forward he swung the axe in a large arc over his head, slamming it down on the ring. A large CRACK! rang through the room, and the axe shattered into a thousand pieces, in the same moment a great red eye flashed across her vision, causing her to gasp. Assuming that Gimli had also been affected similarly, Thennil leapt to her feet, her hood still shading her face, and ran forward to help the dwarf. Gimli had fallen backwards, a look of pure and utter shock upon his bearded face as he gazed in disbelief at the ring upon the pedestal. It was still whole. There wasn't even a dent in the metal where he had swung his axe down. Kneeling by his side, she let him lean his great weight upon her arm, his kin surrounding him, hands bracing against his strong back.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom,' he paused for effect, and she helped the dwarf back to his seat, then disappeared back to her chair on the end like she had never left, 'only there can it be unmade.

"It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast into the fiery chasm from whence it came,' his voice grew louder with each word, stern, unmoving, then it grew soft, 'One of you must do this."

All eye were glued to the floor, none daring to look at the elf. Thennil made to rise, but a shake of her father's head caused her to retreat into her chair.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash and dust...the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand Men could you do this. It is folly."

"And I assume that you think it is folly that we are even discussing going into that land," Thennil stated from the shadows, her anger with the man growing by the minute. He reminded her of Saruman, nice looking on the outside, but rotting on the inside. She knew that he was trying to do what was best for his people, but he had not the wisdom of the ages to look at the situation with.

"And what would you know, shadow walker?' he accused, standing from his seat and glaring at her, 'Have you come here to spy upon us? To take news of this council to Sauron? Why do you hide your face?"

She lifted her head, eyes flashing, "A spy? You think that I would betray you?"

"I suggest you hold your tongue, son of Denethor, you do not know of whom you speak to," growled Gloin, the other dwarves bristling.

"And you do?" the man argued.

"She is Ushmar, or Trewrun, as she is know to the men of the south,' Bifur stated, 'But she is also known as the Lady of Rivendell, Lady Thennil, daughter of Elrond."

The dwarves all stared at the man intently, daring him to insult their friend.

"A woman?" incredulously.

"I know that in your realm that the closest thing to a weapon that a woman touches is a parring knife, Boromir, son of Denethor, but here in the north our women learn to defend themselves. There are many elleth that I would be honored to serve along side in battle, and who are at times braver than any man," she stated quietly.

He ignored her, turing back to the others, he shook his head, repeating himself, "It is folly I say."

"Have you heard nothing that Lord Elrond has said?' cried Legolas, 'The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" asked Gimli.

"And what if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Gimli leapt to his feet, clenching his hands at his sides. "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of you, Elf."

Immediately arguments erupted around the room, the council members leaping to their feet and gesturing with their hands. Shouting grew, and everyone spoke violently. Thennil stayed seated, knowing that this was not a fight that she wished to be involved in. Males of any species were apt to argue over the littlest thing, could they not see that the enemy was at work in their mist already? That he was stirring up strife among them all?

Over the din came a soft voice, shouting over the noise. "I will take it...I will take it..."

Slowly, the shouting quieted, and the entire group turned to look at the halfling who had spoken. "I will take the Ring to Mordor."

"Though I do not know the way,' he finished in a whisper as everyone looked on in shock.

Stepping forward, Gandalf walked to the hobbit, using his staff as a walking stick, "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

Thennil sat in her seat, gazing upon the small halfling in awe, before a movement off to her right caught her eye. Standing, Aragorn advanced upon the dou.

"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will,' he knelt at the hobbits feet, 'you have my sword."

Legolas followed, bowing over a hand held to his chest, "And my bow."

Gimli huffed, and rolled his eyes at the elf as he walked over to the group, "And my Axe."

Meandering over, Boromir looked at the halfling intently, "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Rising from her chair, Thennil swept back her hood. She had not done so earlier, and received a large amount of gasps from those in the room. There were few who had seen her in person, but she had been sung in songs and told in tales to small children, but to the men and some of the elves, she was a sight to behold. Elrond made to step forward, reaching out his hand to stop her as his eyes grew large.

She raised her hand, and shook her head ever so slightly at him, "I have watched over the people of Middle Earth for nearly an Age, it would not do well to fail them now,' bowing low before the halfling, she put her hand over her heart, 'You have my shield at your disposal, young Master Frodo."

The hobbit nodded, and opened his mouth to speak when all of a sudden there was a great shout from behind him, then a rustling of leaves as a short, stout body shout out from behind the bushes along the edge of the platform. The curly head of Samwise Gamgee came into view, ducking under the arm of Aragorn.

"Mr. Frodo isn't goin' anywhere without me,' he stated crossing his arms.

"No, indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you. Even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not." Sam blushed, and fidgeted under the elf's stern gaze.

"Oi!' came another shout, this time from the opposite side of the pavillon, 'We're coming too!"

Two other short figures shot out from behind the doorway, running up the stairs and between the members of the council. Elrond glared at them as they bound through the group, his stern gaze never leaving them. "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

"Anyway,' the younger of the two stated, situating himself between his friends, 'you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission...quest...thing...?"

She snorted softly, and nearly choked when Aragorn looked at her, a small smirk peaking through his serious face.

"Well that rules you out, Pip," the taller of the two mumbled.

"Ten companions," Elrond muttered, his gaze saddening as it wandered over the form of his eldest daughter standing in the middle of the group, 'So be it.'

"You shall be the Fellowship of the ring."

"Great. Where are we going again?"

 **Dun, Dun, Dunnnn! So there's the chapter for the council. I added a lot from the book, hope you don't mind, I just liked the detail in the book better than anything that PJ could have done, except for Pippin's comment at the end, I busted out laughing when I first watched it when I was twelve, and have done so ever since. It's priceless!**

 **Please let me know what you thought of my boards on pinterest, it'd be really awesome to get some feedback about all of that.**

 **Review and favorite!**

 **Robin**


	34. Chapter 32

"I bide you farewell until our next meeting," her father's voice echoed over the courtyard of his house, the group of horsemen listening intently. "Now go, and may the tidings you bring be good."

Mounting her horse in a flurry of flying robes, she clucked her tongue and nudged the animal with her heel, galloping out of the Hidden Valley. She along with many other Elves, along with Aragorn, had been sent out to gather information on the whereabouts of their enemy. Some would go to Mirkwood, other's would get in contact with the rangers. Her brothers, Aragorn, and herself to scour the lands all around them for many leagues to map out their route, and to check for any sign of their enemy. Winter would soon be upon them, at least in the north, and snow would undoubtably be falling when the fellowship left Imladris.

While the hobbits continued to enjoy the hospitality of Rivendell, the thoughts of the journey ahead faded to the back of their minds. The future, rather good or ill, was not forgotten, but rather ceased to have power over their minds and the present. Each day was new and clear, and health and hope grew strong in them.

So the days slipped away quickly for those residing safe within the Valley. Out in the wide world, life was not so pleasant. Though elves do not feel the cold until it is below the freezing level, the harsh winds and clouded sky made them hope that the snow would hold off for the company. The leaves fell from the trees, leaving them naked and bare. A chilly wind began to blow down from the Misty Mountains to the east. The Hunter's Moon waxed round and fat in the night sky, and put to flight all the lesser stars. But low in the South a single star shone bright and red. Every night, as the Moon waned again, it shone brighter and brighter. Thennil could always see it from her campsite, deep in the heavens above, burning like a watchful eye that glared down above the trees or hovering over the tips of the mountains.

Nearly two months had passed before they started to return. November had flown by with the last shreds of the orange and red leaves of autumn. December was passing when the scouts came back to Imladris in vast numbers, their horses spent and their bodies wearied. Some had gone North beyond the springs of Hoarwell into the Ettenmoors; and others had gone west, and with the help of Aragorn and the Rangers had searched the lands far down the Greyflood, as far as Tharbad, where the old North Road crossed a river by a ruined town from ages ago. Many had gone east and south; and those that had crossed the mountains and entered Mirkwood, one even going as far as the Lonely Mountain. Elladan, Elrohir, and herself were the last to return, having made a great journey, passing down the Silverlode, but their journey would not be spoken of to any save their father.

She had separated from her brothers, feeling that they could cover more leagues apart than together. She had also wanted to avoid the confrontation between herself and them because of her place among those leaving on the quest. She knew that they would oppose it, feeling the need to protect her in these dark times, and knowing how the evil was affecting them all. She had spoken at length with her father, and he had consented to letting her continue with the group, though he looked troubled the whole time, haunted almost. She did not ask what he had seen in the future, knowing that even with her own ability to see parts of the future, her own was hidden from her eyes.

She had seen no signs of the Riders, or other servants of the Enemy. Even the eagles, whom she had befriended had no fresh news. Nothing had been seen or heard of Gollum; but she was sure that he would attempt to find and follow them as the ring called to him. As she had journeyed she had found many tracks over the land back and forth, wolf prints. They were gathering in greater numbers, like in the time before the retaking of the mountain, a mix between warg and wolf, hunting farther and farther up the Great River. She had found two black horses drowned in the flooded river not far down the river from the Ford, and sharing the news with the other scouts had learned that one more had been found farther down river from where she had been. She had searched for the black horses bodies in the many rapids, but had only found five more. Another scout had found a black cloak, slashed and tattered floating along the edges of the bend in the river. But of the Black Riders there was no other trace to be seen, and nowhere could their presence be felt. It walk like they had simply vanished from the North, dissolving into thin air.

And so it was that they day of their departure was decided and preparations begun for their long journey. It was Aragorn, Gandalf, and herself that walked together in the mornings and the evenings, speaking of their journey and the best routes to take. Boromir interrupted their conversations more than once saying that they should take the ring to his city, but they merely nodded their heads and said that they would take his opinion into consideration before making a final decision. Thennil highly doubted that they would take the ring anywhere close to Gondor, to close to the enemy.

When she was not with Aragorn or Gandalf she was in the kitchens preparing food that would last them a long while, or in the smithy, sharpening her numerous daggers, dirks, throwing knives and her sword. She made sure that all her arrows were fletched, and practiced for hours on her aim. Though all elves have keen eyesight, far superior to those of men, she had been blinded in one eye long ago in her battle with the witch king of Angmar, and this required her to be even more alert and precise in her shooting. She took the time to repair her boots, putting thick soles, and lining them with furs. She would pack light in regards to the clothing she would take with her, and almost forgot to pack her womanly toiletries when she was visited by her monthly bleeds. She muttered curses beneath her breath as she realized that she would be the only woman within the company, and would have to deal with her womanly issues alone, which she had done when she was wandering by herself, but this would be different. Adding more garments to the pile, she groaned. So much for packing light.

 **S** tanding in her mother's garden, she knelt and plucked a few weeds from around the base of the statue placed there in her honor. She worked along the path in the morning light, a soft mist resting over the Valley. Her fingers trailed through the dirt, enjoying the feeling of earth beneath her fingertips. After weeding along the other paths that crisscrossed through the garden, she plucked flowers as she went along, thinking of their meanings. Slowly she created a bouquet out of Gladiolus', Daffodils, Iris', and ferns. Tying it with a ribbon that she had used in her hair as a small child, she laid it in the arms of the statue, looking up into the cold, stone face, wishing her mother could be standing there, telling her that everything would be alright.

"She loved you."

Twisting around, she saw her father standing in the shadow of one of the arches, hands clasped behind him. "You were her firstborn. Her precious one."

She nodded, sitting on the bench before the statue.

He joined her, easing down slowly, looking with sadness upon the face of his departed wife. "She would be proud of who you have become, and what you fight for."

"Sometimes-sometimes I feel like I've fail, that I've dishonored her,' she whispered, 'That I'm not worthy enough to be her daughter."

"Hush! Never speak of such things!' he chided, 'You have failed in nothing, not in her eyes."

She shook her head, "I've always wished I had followed my gut when she was taken, I could have kept her from sailing if I had been but a day or more earlier. I have feared that since then that I will fail my friends, that in their time of need I will be too late, that I will loose them just like I lost her."

Her father was silent, his arm slipping around her shoulders and rubbing small circles on her arm with his hand. Gazing off into space, they both were left with their thoughts. She dwelled on the past, going over her every failure, picking apart what she did wrong. She vowed silently that if anything should happen like in the past, that she would go with her gut feeling first, it having almost always been right.

It was then, over the breeze that she heard snippets of a song, and her heart saddened.

"I sit beside the fire and think

of all that I have seen,

of meadow-flowers and butterflies

in summers that have been;

... I sit beside the fire and think

of how the world will be

when winter comes without a spring

that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things

that I have never seen:

in every wood in every spring

there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think

of people long ago,

and people who will see a world

that I will never know.

But all the while I sit and think

of times that were before,

I listen for returning feet

and voices at the door."

 **W** ould any of them return? Would any of them come back the same?

 **I** t was a cold grey day nearing the end of December, the leaves all gone from the trees, the animals deep in their burrows sleeping. The East Wind was rushing through the bare branches, seething in the dark pines on the hills. Ragged clouds were passing by overhead, dark and low. As the joyless shadows of the early evening began to fall the Company made ready to set out. They were to start at dusk, for Elrond stated that their journey was meant to begin under the cover of night, and to continue to do so as often as they could, until they were far from Rivendell.

"You should fear the many eyes of the servants of Sauron,' he said. 'I do not doubt that news of the discomfiture of the Riders has already reach him, and he will be filled with wrath like none has seen before. Soon now his spies on foot and wing will be abroad in the northern lands. Even the sky above you must beware as you go on your way."

Among the company there was as little armor as possible, for their hope was in secrecy not in battle. Aragorn went forth in his rangers garb, clad only in rusty green and brown, knowing from experience that it was best to blend in as much as possible. Boromir had a long sword and bore also a shield and his war-horn. Legolas was clothed in the colors of his people, deep greens, browns, and grey, his bow strung over his shoulder and twin swords strapped to his back. Gimli carried his axe, along with a smaller version of it at his hip; dressed in the many layers of his people, he looked to be the one wearing the most articles of clothing among them all. Thennil herself was dressed simply in a leather tabard with a hood, layered over her tunic and under tunic both of variations of greenish brown, and had hidden on her person more weapons than the other's combined. She always came prepared. The young hobbits each carried a sword, which to any man or elf would be but a butterknife. Their spare clothes, of which Thennil packed as little as possible, blankets, and spare food were all laden on a pony, none other than the one that had been with them since Bree.

They had all said their farewells to the Valley in the hall by the warm fire, and they were now waiting for Elrond to bide them farewell in a small courtyard that had a road leading out of the valley. Frodo joined the fellowship, walking from Elrond's side to stand among his friends. They all stood ready to depart, their entire journey to be on foot. Looking over the building, Thennil hoped to catch a last glimpse of her beautiful younger sister. She caught sight of her black hair shining in the last light of the day, hurrying down the stairs to stand with others that had gathered to see them off. Offering a small smile, she rested her hand over her heart, and spoke into her sister's mind.

I will watch over him, she promised, causing her sister to start, looking around the group, her eyes snapping to her sisters pale face, If any come back alive it will be Frodo and him.

Her sister shook her head just barely, and spoke in her own mind, knowing that Thennil would be able to read it, I only pray that the Valar will watch over you all and that no harm shall befall any of you. I love you.

And I, you, penneth. Try to stay out of trouble while I am gone.

Arwen sniffled, a hand reaching up to brush away a tear that had escaped. Moving off to the side, the sisters embraced.

"Please be careful, Thennil,' Arwen begged, clinging to her, 'Do not put yourself in any unnecessary danger. Think things through before rushing into a situation."

"When have I ever rushed into a skirmish without logically thinking it through?" she teased, tears in her eyes.

"I believe I've lost count,' Arwen hiccuped, clinging tighter to her as Gandalf beckoned to her with his hand.

"I must go."

"Not yet! I do not know if I will ever see you again,' the younger elleth whimpered emotionally, 'Must you go?"

"I have pledged my whole life to watching over Middle Earth and protecting it from evil, little sister, I cannot fail it now. Not when it needs me most."

"I know,' whispered the teary eyed elleth, gripping Thennil in a lung crushing hug.

"I am doing this for you,' Thennil whispered, drawing away towards the group, her eyes glistening, 'And I will do whatever it takes to make sure you are safe."

Arwen nodded tearfully, moving back among their friends as she recomposed herself, wiping the tears away and taking deep breaths.

 **"T** he Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither cast away the Ring, nor deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. On you who travel with him, no oath nor nod is laid to go further that you will." Her father spoke, his voice strong and steady as he watched his firstborn take her place among the fellowship, wondering if this would be the last time he would see her.

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,' muttered Gimli.

"Maybe,' Elrond replied, his sharp ears catching the muffled comment, 'but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall."

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart,' spoke the dwarf, louder this time.

"Or break it,' said Elrond. 'Look not to far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessing of Elves, Men, Dwarves and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

Many of the other's from the city had come to bide them farewell stood in the shadows and watched them go, their soft voices like a soft breeze in the coolness of the evening. There was no laughter, no joy, no song or music. At last they turned away and faded silently into the dusk as Gandalf spoke.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer."

Turning slowly from the fellowship, Frodo looked at the path ahead of him. He walked to the head of the group, timid and silent. He walks to the edge of the courtyard, and looks left and right, puzzled.

"Mordor, Gandalf,' he whispered to the wizard, 'is it left or right?"

"Left."

The wizard placed his hand on the halflings shoulder, guiding he out of Rivendell. Standing at the front with the hobbit was Aragorn and the wizard, Thennil trailing at the back to encourage the two younger hobbits to keep up with the rest of the group. Legolas, whose eyes were keen stayed back with her, another set of eyes of the elusive hobbits who would continually stop and look at things here and there that caught their fancy.

 **T** he first part of their journey was hard and dreary, traveling over the hills and deep valleys, rivers of turbulent water. The peaks of the Misty Mountains were ever on their left, a guide. They spent their days resting, building small fires that did not smoke to cook their meals over. The hobbits, who had been accustom to the warm beds and hot meals whenever they wanted while staying in Rivendell found it very hard to readjust to traveling on the road, Pippin complaining loudly at points about second breakfast, elvensies, and tea in the afternoon. She teased him over and over again about his bottomless pit of a stomach, causing the dear lad to blush like a tomato at her attention.

Sitting around the fire one evening, nearly two weeks after their departure, the halflings muttered about being bored. Boromir had taken to teaching them to spar in the evenings, or any spare moment when they were not moving, and had tired them out quite well, but they still could not fall asleep as they huddled near the fire. Gimli smoked his pipe with Aragorn, the wizard speaking with Legolas about his home, and the happenings of his father's kingdom.

"Merry, I'm bored."

"..."

"Merry."

"..."

"Merry!"

"What Pippin?" cried the annoyed hobbit, pulling his blanket closer.

"I'm bored."

"Then find something to do? Have you practiced your footwork again?"

"Yes, but I'm still bored."

"Uhhh!" groaned the hobbit, hitting his forehead with his hand, "Go to sleep then!"

"But I'm not tired..."

"Then find something to do that isn't bothering me, because I am," stated the irritated hobbit, scooting closer to the small fire.

Pippin huffed, shrugging his shoulders, and looked around the fire. His eyes wandered around the small raven that they had found earlier that evening, and he started as he saw the form of Thennil sitting atop the hill. Looking about him, he saw that everyone was busy, and wasn't paying him any mind. He snatched up his blanket, and a piece of bread left on the stones around the fire, and began to creep up the hill towards the elf. Her ears twitched, and she turned towards the hobbit who approached her from the left, the bright light of the moon reflecting off of her eyes in the inky blackness. He jumped in surprise, no realizing that she had heard him coming. Gazing up at her, he realized for the first time that her left eye was clouded, the pupil and iris had a cracked line through them. He had never seen it before, and wondered at it.

Plopping down next to her, he offered her a piece of bread, which she took. "So, you're eye, what happened to it? It's different."

She stiffened slightly, and he cringed a little, but bounced back to his bubbly silly self in a second.

"It happened a long time ago," came her clipped answer.

"What? It's color change?' he asked, 'I think it's pretty cool."

"It's not cool when you aren't able to use it, it's a defect, and dangerous when in battle."

"Oh. So, you're blind."

"Aye."

"How'd it happen?" he pestered, suddenly very interested in this strange female elf. She hadn't spoke much on their journey, scouting ahead when Boromir and Legolas would argue over who would be the one to do so, taking watches at the worst times of night.

"You truly want to know?" she asked, turning to look at him with her good eye.

He nodded.

"It was a long time ago, back in one-thousand nine-hundred and seventy-five. I was leading a battalion of elves in battle against the Witch King of Angmar. We were aiding King Earnur against the forces of evil. The prince had gone after the Witch King, who had wanted to take down the royal line. Figuring out what he planned to do, I rallied my battalion, and rushed to his aid. If only I had realized what I had been doing before, taken into consideration that we would be separated from the main body of the army, alone facing our enemies. We surged through the ranks surrounding the Witch King, slaying them. I had seen the Witch King moving towards the Prince, and had run through the battle towards him. The prince tried his best to parry each stroke that fell, but in the end, tripped over a fallen comrade, falling onto his back.

'Raising his great, black sword, the Witch king brought it down on the opening that was presented him. I had put on a burst of speed, and intercepted the blade, deflecting it with my own. We battled for what felt like hours, matched quite evenly. It was when I heard the cries of my friends dying that I became distracted, and left an opening for the enemy to use his blade. And use it he did. He slashed it across my face, nicking my eye, and then as I stumbled back stunned, he drug the black blade across my body from hip to shoulder. After that I do not remember more than a dark blinding pain burning through my whole body, the smell of the blood of my friends, and the screams of the dying. I tried to look for my friends, but ever movement sent a string of pain through my body. I was broken.'

"I will never forget the sounds that I heard that day, the screams of despair when a family member was found dead. The stench of death so strong that it made you want to vomit," she stated, "There is no glory in war, only death and despair at the great losses."

Pippin was silent, gazing in stupor up at her pale face in the moonlight. The entire camp had gone quiet with her short retelling of the battle, their eyes fastened on her face, hanging on her every word. Aragorn watched her intently, his eyes filled with pity, and she turned away from the group.

"But the prince was saved, and that was all that mattered."

Gimli shook his head, "Nay, lassie, it was your sacrifice. Your willingness that mattered. We have a saying within our people, one which you have undoubtably heard before. 'Greater love hath no dwarf-or elf in your case-than this: to lay down one's life for ones friend's.'"

"And a very apt description it is for our Thennil,' Gandalf said around his smoking pipe, 'She has sacrificed much for others."

Boromir snorted softly, "I do not understand how anyone would allow a woman in battle."

Shaking his head, Gandalf rolled his eyes, "Is not your cousin a warrior among your people, Boromir?"

Boromir's head snapped to the wizard, "How did you know about her?"

The wizard chuckled, "I have travelled this Middle Earth for some time my friend, and have seen and know many things. But, I knew your mother's brother, Imrahil, and his wife, Lorelei, when they were children, and kept tabs on them up until Lorelei's death, and the birth of a girl you look upon as a sister."

"And they wonder..." Boromir muttered under his breath.

"Your sister is a warrior?" asked Thennil, curious.

"Nay, not exactly. She is a tracker, well more of the healer, though she is quite good at tracking, with the Rangers of Ithilian, working alongside my brother, Faramir part of the time, and the other part of the time she lives with her father, my Uncle in Dol Amroth. There isn't a better healer than her among my men," Boromir proclaimed loudly, puffing his chest out proudly.

"I wouldn't doubt it if she learned from Arthur," Thennil smiled knowingly, switching the watch with Legolas.

"Old Arthur?" asked Boromir.

"Aye, though he was but a boy when I was in the area."

"Aye, he's ancient now, helps out in the healing halls of Minas Tirith."

"So he did end up doing what his father had in mind for him all along," she laughed.

And so the remainder of the evening was spent chatting about Boromir's family and old Arthur in the healing wards. Soon the hobbits dropped off to sleep one by one, pilling up together like puppies. It wasn't much later that Boromir and Gimli slipped into their blankets, the later snoring away like a horn. Gandalf sat up smoking, but finishing his pipe, tapped out the ash onto the ground, sliding it into a place in his staff. Slowly, they all fell asleep beneath the stars, the only open eyes those of the elves.

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was a fun one to write. Now that I'm actually within the Lord of the Rings and not between the hobbit and LOTR it's going to be easier to write because there is so much to work with!**

 **Please Review!**

 **Robin**


	35. Chapter 33

**ENJOY!**

 **T** he dawn broke days later, clear and bright. As the sun had risen above the horizon the clouds seemed to have disappeared. The harsh wind that had been steadily blowing veered around to the south, drawing any wisps left from the overcast sky with them. The pale blue sky was like a bolt of silk rolled across the mountains and pinned by their pointed summits.

They had been traveling under the cover of night for many days, and the hobbits stumbled wearily. Boromir and Gandalf had trouble seeing in the pale light of the stars, keeping to the center of the group with the four hobbits as they traveled along. Legolas and herself had the keenest sight out of the entire group followed by Gimli and Aragorn, and had been designated as lookouts. Being semi-familiar with the area that they were traveling through, Thennil had taken the lead, hoping that at least the land would be similar to what it was when she had explored the area as a youngster. Legolas kept to the rear, his sharp eyes and hearing on high alert for any sound or movement. Gimli and Aragorn acted as the side guard to the hobbits with Boromir attempting to help them when they stumbled now and then.

Cresting a hill, they all paused to take a breather, rubbing sleepy eyes. The hill itself was crowned in ancient holly trees whose grey-green trunks seemed to be growing from the very stone of the hills. The dark leaves on the trees shone in the pale morning light, the berries glittering in the frost like rubies.

The Misty mountains had continually been on their left as they traveled, though they faded into the distance at times. But now they rose up in the south, dim shapes of lofty mountain peaks rising up to block their path. To the left in the line of mountains rose three peaks; the tallest and nearest of them stood up quite like a tooth tipped with snow; it's great, bare northern precipice was still largely in the shadow, where the sunlight slanted across it, it glowed red.

Standing at Frodo's side, Gandalf gazed upon the land before them. "We have done well,' he said, 'We have reached the borders of the country that Men call Hollin; many elves lived here in happier days, when Eregion was it's name."

Having overheard Gandalf talking of the land and it's history, Thennil strode over to continue where he left off.

"It was here that the lady of the Golden Wood first reigned with her husband, and for a time they stayed before passing over the mountains to the woods of Lothlorien. After them came Celebrimbor, who reigned for a time and under him the elves became friends with Annular, and created the rings of power. It was when he was revealed to be the dark Lord Sauron that the elves of Eregion attempted to save the rings from his ever grasping hand. But alas, they were only able to rescue Vilya, Narya, Kenya, along with the shattered stone of another who's name has been forgotten with time.'

"Sauron returned in full force, seeking revenge for being spurned, and for the taking of the rings which he wished to use for evil purposes, in 1697 of the Second Age. Despite the friendship with the dwarves and the great number of elves that lived here the realm was utterly obliterated. The survivors fled to Lindon, Imladris and the Golden Wood seeking refuge from the fires of the Dark Lord. The doors of Moria were shut and Celebrimbor was slain in battle defending his people. The land has since become unpopulated, fertile though it is."

Frodo looked at her in awe, "Your people lived here?"

"Aye, there are a few who have not sailed who still live within the Golden wood and Imladris," she replied.

Legolas, who had been watching over their surroundings with Merry at his side, whispered a prayer for those that were lost. Gandalf nodded, leaning over his staff and looking down at the hobbit.

"Five-and-forty leagues as the crow flies have we come, though many long miles further our feet must walk. The land and the weather will at least be milder now, but perhaps all the more dangerous."

 _And so he speaks in riddles,_ she mused.

"Danger or not, a real sunrise is wonderfully welcome,' said the dark-headed hobbit, throwing back his hood and basking in the light of the sun.

"But the mountains are ahead of us,' said Pippin, 'We must have turned eastward in the night."

"No,' said Gandalf, seeing Thennil tense, 'But you see further ahead in clear light. Beyond those peaks the range bends round south-west. There are many maps in Elrond's house, but I suppose you never thought to look at them?"

The hobbit looked insulted at the assumption and quickly corrected the wizard, "Yes I did, sometimes, but I don't remember them. Frodo has a better head for that sort of thing."

Striding up to Legolas and Merry, Gimli looked in wonder over the plains, "I need no map,' he whispered, a strange light in his eyes, 'There is the land where our father's worked of old, and we have wrought the images of those mountains into many works of metal and stone, and into many songs and tales.'

'Once only have I seen them from afar in the waking life, but I know them and their names for under them lies Khazad-dum, the Dwarrowdelf, that is now called the Black Pit, Moria in the elvish tongue. Yonder stands Barazinbar, the red horn, Cruel Caradhras: Celebdil the white, and Fanuidhal the Grey, that we call Zirakzigil and Bundushathur."

 **T** hat morning they lit a fire, which took them longer than normal because of the damp wood. Even with the combined efforts of both Gimli and Aragorn the tinder would not lite. After nearly throwing his tinder box over the side of the hill, Gimli begged Thennil to come and help him start the blasted fire, grumbling the whole time. Using her magic discreetly, she blew on the wood after sending sparks from her flint into a bundle of finely shaved pieces of kindling.

Their supper-breakfast was merrier than it had been since the start of their journey, the hobbits, mainly Sam, created a filling meal out of their meager rations. they did not rush to their bedrolls afterwards, for they expected to have the whole day and a part of the night to sleep in. Only Aragorn was silent within the chatter of the group as they went about getting their bedrolls ready and playing hand games among the hobbits.

Aragorn watched as Boromir pulled Pippin up from his bedroll, encouraging him to practice with his sword. Coaching the hobbit slowly, and correcting his stance and movements, he gave the short hobbit tips and tricks to take advantage of opponents larger than himself. Sam hovered nearby, watching the pot that rested on the coals to make sure that it wouldn't boil over.

"Get away from the blade, Pippin,' Boromir scolded, 'On your toes! -Pippin dodged the slow swing that the man threw at him- Good, very good! I want you to react, not think."

"Should not be too hard..." muttered Sam, stirring the pot as he rolled his eyes at the younger hobbit.

"Move your feet!" Aragorn called out to the hobbit.

Pippin nodded as Boromir switched to Merry.

"Quite good, Pippin,' murmured Merry as he parried the strokes from Boromir.

Sitting on a stone behind the two practicing hobbits, Thennil held one of the halfling's trousers, needle in hand. Miraculously, Pippin had stumbled in the dark the night before, and caught his trousers on a sharp stone, thus ripping his trousers from knee to thigh. He had whimpered a little, but once she had promised to mend his pants he had quieted down like an appeased child. Not long after Sam had the seam of his shirt sleeve pulled apart by a nip from their dear pony, Bill. It had amazed her at how quiet the hobbits could be , but be so clumsy at the same time. Perhaps it was only this set of friends that were so accident prone.

Lunging forward experimentally, Pippin swung at Boromir. Dodging the halflings attempt at hacking his arm off, Boromir parried the haphazard swings easily; then making a thrust of his own, he caught Pippin's hand with the tip of his sword.

"Ahhh!" yelped the hobbits, scrunching up his face and dropping his sword to clutch at his injured hand. Kicking at the man's legs, he battered at him with his fists. Merry joined in, wiping Boromir's legs out from under his with the flat of his blade.

"Get HIM!" he cried, tackling the taller man. Clattering to the ground, Boromir laughed as they pounced and jumped on him. Aragorn's deep chuckle rang out around his pipe as he watched the trio tussle in the dirt, fists pounding harmlessly into Boromir's stomach.

"For the Shire!" the cried together as they jumped and wriggled while punching, laughing all the while.

Realizing that the wrestling might be getting out of hand, Aragorn tapped out his pipe and slipped it into his breast pocket of his traveling cloak.

"Gentlemen, that's enough,' he stated, grabbing the collars of the hobbits and attempting to haul them off the other man. The two paused in their wrestling, and Thennil couldn't warn Aragorn before they had grabbed his legs and flipped him over onto his back.

She burst out laughing as they pounced on him, pulling his limbs this way and that while jumping all over him like little children. Holding her giggles inside, she tried to keep the needle steady in her hands as she stitched up the tear. She smiled at the silliness of her companions, but looked up at them as she felt a shadow drawing near. Boromir stopped in their play scuffle, looking to the south where Legolas had pointed out a strange sight. The hobbits paused in their wrestling, listening to the concerned voices around them.

"Crebain from Dunland!" cried Legolas in a panic, turning to their camp.

"Hide!" Shouted Aragorn, running to grab his sword.

Thennil scrambled after them, dousing the fire and tossing a few of their packs beneath a bush. She turned to run and slip beneath a fallen tree when she spotted the mending she had dropped in her rush sitting right out in plain sight of the birds. Twisting away from her destination, she leapt over the rocks ignoring the frightened whispers of her friends. She dropped into a roll, snatching up the garments, and continued until she was laying beneath a ledge carved out by the rain and wind. Her body was slammed into the ground again not a second later as someone came to land on top of her. Not a moment later the roaring of a thousand wings assaulted her ears, and a shadow passed over their camp. The murder of crows swept past flying at great speeds through the air as they searched for their prey. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, Thennil clutched the garments to her chest. she could feel the hot, panting breaths of the person who lay above her, the racing of their heart matching her own.

"Croooaak!" came a screech from above, and the thunderous noise of the carrion's wings faded back towards the south.

They all held their breath a few seconds more before daring to move a muscle. Fluttering her eyelids, she dared to look up. Her eyes grew wider than saucers and her mouth fell open unattractively.

"Aragorn?' she gasped, a heat rushing up over her body.

He lay their above her, arms braced against the stoney ground on either side of her slim shoulders, straddling her. His deep set silver-blue eyes gazed down at her in worry, flicking over her body to reassure himself that she was alright. His dark hair hung down like a veil, masking both their faces. One of his hands came up to cup her face tenderly, fingers trembling. Opening his mouth, he made to speak- but it snapped shut when he heard the other's creeping out of their hiding places. Jumping off her, he stumbled a bit as he knocked the edge of his head on the ledge.

Offering her his hand, he helped her to her feet jerkily, causing her to stumble into him. After she regained her footing, she turned to look of the rest of the company.

"Spies of Saruman,' stated the Wizard, looking out over to the south as he stumbled up onto his feet with the help of his staff, 'the passage south is being watched."

Looking to Aragorn, the wizard raised a bushy eyebrow at the closeness of the two, along with the still clasped hands. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras!"

 **F** or three days they travelled, following Aragorn as he led them along an old road that had once been one of the main routes through Eregion. The twisting and climbing road had in many places almost disappeared, and was blocked with many fallen stones. The night grew deadly and dark under great evil looking clouds. A bitter wind swirled among the rocks, stinging the faces of the once plump hobbits. By midnight they had climbed to the knees of the great mountains. the narrow path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs rising out of the plains to the left, above which the grim flanks of Caradhras towered up invisible the misty gloom; on the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep, bottomless ravine.

Slipping on the snow, Frodo tumbled down the slope. He let out a muffled cry as rolled down, Aragorn catching hold of him as he came to a stop. Setting the hobbit on his feet, he brushed the snow from the halfling's cloak. Frantically, the hobbit searched his clothes for the chain that held the ring. Looking around him he panicked, before looking further up the slope. Everyone had stopped to look back, and watched as Boromir plucked the chain from the snow, dangling the golden circle before him. He seemed to grow in stature, his eyes glued to the ring.

"Boromir?" asked warily as he and Frodo approach the entranced man cautiously.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing...such a little thing," the man wondered aloud.

"Boromir,' Aragorn scolded, 'give the Ring to Frodo." He moved his hand to the hilt of his sword slowly.

A strange, beatific smile came over the man's face before he snapped out of the strange trance like state, handing the ring to Frodo.

"As you wish. I care not," he smiled and ruffled the halfling's hair affectionately.

They continued to climb laboriously as they made their way up the sharp slope, and halted for a moment again at the top. Subtly, the sky had decided to grace them with another unwanted gift to make their journey that much more miserable, snow. They went on. But before long the snow was falling fast, piling up underneath their feet even as they stepped in one another's footsteps. It swirled in their eyes, catching in their lashes and sticking to their clothes. Ahead of the group could be seem the bent shapes of both Gandalf and Aragorn, but they could hardly be seen in the thick snow.

"I don't like this at all,' panted Sam next to her. 'Snow's all right on a fine morning, but I like to be in bed while it's falling. I wish this lot would go off to Hobbiton! Folk might welcome it there."

She chuckled at Sam's grumblings. He must not have experienced much snow in his short life. In her many travels through the north she had come across many amounts of snow, both when she was out alone or hidden away in the depths of a warm inn on the outskirts of some village. Though she was not overly affected by the cold, being an elf, she still hated that the snow would melt on her clothes, then freeze over to become a hard layer when the frigid breeze blew across them. She knew that Gandalf feared this, the risk that they might be caught in the snow. But that had been when they were further north. Here so far south there should not have been so much, only a light flurry here or there, but it would melt soon after it had fallen. In her mind she wondered if this was the enemies power, and if so, dreaded that his arm had grown so long.

While they had halted, the wind had died down to almost a gentle breeze, and the snow slackened until it had almost ceased. They tramped on again. But as soon as they had started moving, having barely gone more than a furlong the storm returned in full force, a fresh fury leaping from they dying flames. The wind whistled around them, and the snow became a blinding blizzard. With the addition of the snow swirling around them, Thennil had to rely on her only good eye, as the white flakes made her vision worse. She stood close to the other hobbits, using her overcompensating hearing to her advantage. Moving on many of the hobbits were bent doubt, toiling along behind the taller folk, but it was plain that they could not go much further. Pippin was dragging along behind her, shivering up a storm as he blew on his fingers before stuffing them back under his armpits in a hurry. Hanging back, she shielded him from the brunt of the wind and snow, tossing her long cloak of him so that he might walk beneath it. It looked quite like she had grown a great large bottom, which caused her to chuckle in their uncomfortable situation.

 **Night** had slowly fallen, though through the snow it was hard to tell what time it was. Gathering near to the cliff, the company huddled close together. The cliff itself faced southwards, and near the bottom it leaned out a little so that they hoped it would five them some protection from the wind and any chance of falling stones. But eddying blasts swirled round them from eery side, and snow flowed down in ever denser clouds.

They huddled together with their back stop the wall. Bill the pony stood patiently but dejectedly in front of the hobbits, the snow above his hocks, and it went on mounting. If they had no larger companions the hobbits would have soon been buried. Great sleepiness seemed to come over all four, and they all slipped into hazy dreams of a warm fire heating their toes and cold digits. They battled with the sleepiness, shaking themselves in attempts to stay awake. Those of larger stature did not feel the pull quite as bad, but it was there at the edges of their mind, lurking in the dark.

"This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf,' Boromir stated, pulling Frodo from the nest of snow that he had sunk into. 'It is useless to sit here until the snow grows so high that we cannot seen or move. We must do something to save ourselves."

"Give them this,' Thennil stated, pulling a flask of bright red liquid from inside her doublet, 'Just a mouthful each for all of you, it is very precious. It is mirror, the cordial of Imladris. I helped in the making of it myself, and added a few more ingredients to make it more potent. Pass it round!"

As soon as each of the halflings had taken a swallow of a little of the warm fragrant liquor they perked up, blinking their bleary eyes more alert than they had been in hours. Pippin jumped up from his spot and began to kick at the snow, the child he was; while Sam drew his master's cloak further around the hobbits shoulders. The other's were also revived and found fresh hope and vigour. But the snow did not relent. It whirled about them like a thick blanket of smoke, and the noise of the wind grew louder and louder as the night progressed.

"What do you say to a fire?' asked Aragorn, rummaging through the packs on Bill's back in search of the twigs that they had acquired as they went along. 'The choice seems near now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow has covered us, but that will not help us."

"You may make fire if you can,' answered Gandalf. 'If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then they can see us, fire or no."

But though they had brought wood and kindling by the advice of Boromir and Thennil, it passed the skill of Elf, or even Dwarf to strike a flame that would hold amid the swirling wind or catch in the wet fuel. Thennil was reluctant to reveal more of her power, though she knew that Gandalf probably already knew through her grandmother. There was also the fact that he could create flames himself without her help. Reluctantly, he took a faggot he held it aloft for a moment, and then with a word of command, _naur an edraith_ _ammen!_ he thrust the end of his staff into the midst of it. All at once a great spout of blue and green flame sprang up, and the wood flared and sputtered wildly.

"If there are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them,' he said, 'I have written _Gandalf is here_ in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin."

But they did not care for watchers or unfriendly eyes. Their hearts were rejoicing in the light of the fire as they all gathered closer around it, reaching out their hands to grasp at the heat the emanated from it. The wood burned merrily; and though all round the snow hissed, and pools of water began to form as the snow melted into slush and the slush into water, there were content to stoop around in a circle about the little dancing and blowing of the flames. A red light was in their tired and anxious faces; behind them the night was like a black wall as they slowly drifted off into sleep, one or another walking the others to make sure that none would slip away in the cold.

As they continued to battle the blizzard, the hobbits grew colder and colder. The warmth of the fire had disappeared long ago, and they longed for it with abandon. Unable to continue walking, Boromir and Aragorn had picked them up in their arms, carrying them. Legolas looked at the halflings in pity, shivering and shaking in the cold as they tried to walk.

"Perhaps Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' he said over the roaring of the wind. The storm had not overly troubled him, and he alone of the company still remained light of heart.

"If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'but I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow."

"Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. the strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess."

"Then let us force a path thither, you and I!" said Aragorn.

Aragorn was undoubtably the tallest out of the group, but Boromir, little less in height, was of a broader and heavier build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed after him. Slowly, they were able to move off into the snow, and soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them with a chuckle on his lips, and turned to the other's, catching Thennil's eye, "The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass or leaf, or over snow - an Elf."

With that he sprang forth nimbly, listening to the wind rage against the mountain. The group filled Aragorn and Boromir through the small path that they had created, huddling close together. Thennil joined him, stepping lightly across the snow like she was walking on air, almost as if she was dancing. Walking to the head of the line, he stopped, looking over the edge and listening more intently. One the roaring wind a whisper of a voice echoed, and she stopped.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse; nai yarvaxea rasselya!" (Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your horn be bloodstained!)

"There is a fell voice on the air," the elf stated urgently, fear creeping into his voice.

"It is Saruman!" cried the Wizard.

Thunder rumbled around them, and she could feel the stones shudder beneath her fingertips as she touched the cliffs. Rocks and shale rained down from above, causing them all to leap back under the overhang to avoid being pushed over the mountainside. The mountain shook.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain," cried the ranger over the storm, clutching the hobbits, 'Gandalf! We must turn back!"

"No!" raising his staff, the wizard began to chant into the wind. "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i ruth."

The voice continued to chant, flowing over the wind like a hurricane. Suddenly, out of the grey stormy sky snapped a white lightning cracked over the mountainside above. Looking up in horror, Thennil watched snow explode from the mountainside, tumbling down towards them! Jumping towards the rocky face, she held her breath as the snow rained down upon them. Within moments they are covered, and the pass blocked. Popping up out of the snow, she gasped for air.

"Pippin?" she cried, looking around, he had been right next to her. Falling to the snow, she dug around flinging it over the side of the mountain in her haste. Coming upon a head, she dug frantically, pulling the hobbit out and into her arms. Pippin clung to her, frightened out of his mind. Burying his face in her chest, he tried to calm his rapid breathing.

"We must get off this mountain!" cried Boromir, 'Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes up too close to Isengard," argued Aragorn, holding the two hobbits close to his body.

"We cannot pass over a mountain. Let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria," offered Gimli.

Gandalf shook his head in concern, "Let the Ring-bearer decide."

All eyes turned to the half-frozen hobbit as he leaned against Aragorn. He looked up at Gandalf, asking with his eyes what to do. Pippin shivered in her arms, and looked over at Frodo as he snuggled deeper into the warmth that he found there.

"Frodo?"

"We will go though the mines."

Thennil wanted to shake her head, remembering the fell thing that had been awakened there long ago. She had never seen it, but Glorfindel had told her much about what it looked like, and she feared it. Gandalf nodded.

"So be it."

 **Please review!**

 **The next few chapters are going to be spaced out as I write ahead for when my college semester comes around. I'm trying to get out as many as I can so that if I hit a road block, or am to busy with homework that I can still post chapters. Please be patient for me.**

 **Robin**


	36. Chapter 34

**T** he mountains were veiled in deepening dusk, and the wind was cold. Thennil spared each with another mouthful of the miruvor that she had made while in Rivendell. When they had eaten some food Gandalf called a council.

"We cannot, of course go on again tonight,' he said, 'Tha attack on the Redhorn Gate has tired us out, and we must rest here for a while."

The other's nodded, huddling down together in the snow once again. Gandalf continued, sitting down next to Frodo.

"As for the longer road; we cannot afford the time. We might spend a year in such a journey, and we should pass through many langs that are empty and harborless. Yet they would not be safe. The watchful eyes of both Saruman and the Enemy are on them. when you came north, Boromir, you were in the Enemy's eyes only one stray wanderer from the South and a matter of small concern to him: dos mind was busy in the pursuit of the Ring. But you return now as a member of the Ring's Company, and you are in peril as long as you remain with us. The danger will increase with every league that we go south under the naked sky.

'Since our open attempt on the mountain-pass our plight has become more desperate, I fear. i see now little hope, if we do not soon vanish from sight for a while, which is why Moria is the most logical choice in this situation. And so we will vanish, taking a road that the Enemy will least expect."

"We do not know what he expects,' said Boromir, 'He may watch all roads, likely and unlikely. In that case to enter Moria would be to walk into a trap, hardly better than knocking at the gates of the Dark Tower itself. the name of Moria is black."

"Do you not believe that my cousin, Balin son of Fundin might live beneath the mountains in Moria even now? We shall feast in his halls; and you, Elf, will know the hospitality of the dwarves!" proclaimed Gimli, 'I will tread this path with you Gandalf! I will go and look on the halls of Durin, whatever may wait there-if you can find the doors that are shut.'

"Good Gimli!' said Gandalf. 'You encourage me, We will seek the hidden doors together. and we will come through. in the ruins of the Dwarves, a dwarf's head will be less easy to bewilder than Elves or Men or Hobbits. Yet it will not be the first time that I have been to Moria. I sought there long ago for Thrain son of Thror after he was lost. With the help of Thennil I passed through, and came out again alive!"

Thennil sniffed, rolling her eyes, "Aye, after I saved your sorry hide, Wizard. You were in quite a fix if I remember right."

Gandalf shook his white beard at her, 'I can't conceive what you remember my friend."

"I didn't think you would,' she muttered cheekily as she drew Pippin to her along with Merry. The hobbits giggled, snuggling closer to her like children to a mother's breast, basking in the warmth that she was able to offer.

As they all fell silent, the wind was hissing among the rocks and trees, and there was a howling and a wailing around them in the empty spaces of the night. Thennil stiffened, her ears catching the range at which the howls rose and fell, her heart quickening.

Suddenly, Aragorn leapt to his feet. "How the wind howls!' he cried. 'It is howling with wolf-voices. The Wargs have come west of the Mountains!"

"Need we wait until morning then?' asked Gandalf. 'It is as I said. The hunt is up! Even if we live to see the dawn, who now will wish to journey south by night with the wild wolves on his trail?"

"How far is Moria?' asked Boromir.

"There was a door south-west of Caradhras, some fifteen feels as a crow flies, Gandalf,' Thennil stated, disturbing the hobbits she stood, 'And maybe twenty as the wolf runs."

The Wizard grimaced.

"Then let us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if we can,' said Boromir. 'The wolf that one hears is worse than the orc that one fears."

"True!' said Aragorn, loosening his sword in its sheath. 'But where the warg howls, there also the orc prowls."

"I wish we had taken Elrond's advice,' muttered Pippin to Merry around Thennil's body, 'I am no good after all. There is not enough of the breed of Banobras the Bullroarer in me: these howls freeze my blood. I don't ever remember ever feeling so wretched."

"Nay, Pippin,' she whispered, kneeling down to his and Merry's level. 'There is always a reason for the way this turn about, and you being here is not a mistake. It was meant to be, so take heart and banish your fears. I will keep you safe."

For their defense in the night the Company climbed to the top of a small hill under which they had been sheltering. It was crowned with a knot of old twisted trees, about which lay a broken circle of boulder-stones. In the midst of this they lit a fire, using dead branches from the trees and twigs that were found littered at their bases. Round the fire they all sat, and those that were not on guard dozed uneasily. Poor Bill the pony trembled and sweated where he stood. The howling of the wolves was now all around them. In the dead of night many singing eyes were seen peering over the brow of the hill. Some advanced almost to the ring of stones. At a gap in the circle a great dark wolf-shape could be seen halted, gazing at them. Pippin and Merry squished themselves closer to her, making it very hard for her to move if they were attacked as they watched the wolf-shape in the darkness. A shuddering howl broke from him, as if he were a captain summoning his pack to the assault.

Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. "Listen, Hound of Sauron!' he cried. 'Gandalf is here. Fly, if you so value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring."

The wolf snarled, shaking it's great head and sprang towards them with a great leap. at the moment there was a sharp twang, Legolas had loosed his bow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to the ground; the Elvish arrow had pierced its throat. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Aragorn and Thennil strode forward, the wizard seating himself on a stone near to the hobbits, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew eerily silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind. It was not a pleasant feeling in the least.

 **T** he night was waining, and westward the moon was setting, gleaming fitfully through the break in the clouds. Suddenly Frodo started from sleep. Without warning a storm of howls broke out fierce and wild all about the camp. A great host of Wargs had gathered silently and was now attacking the from every side all at once.

"Fling fuel on the fire!' cried Gandalf to the hobbits as he drew his sword, 'Draw your blades, and stand back to back!"

In the leaping light, as the fresh wood was blazing up, Thennil was able to make out many more grey shapes spring over the ring of stones. More and more followed, their coats of different colors causing the hobbits heads to swim. Through the throat of one huge leader Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust, with a great sweep Boromir hewed off the head of another. Beside them Gimli stood with his stout legs apart, wielding his dwarf-axe. The bow of Legolas was singing.

Having draw her sword, Thennil joined in the skirmish, swinging with years of precision. Her thrusts and strokes created a rhythm, a song that she danced to as she twisted and turned around the lunging wolves as they bared their great teeth at her. In the light of the fire Gandalf seemed to grow, rising up, a great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of stone set upon a hill. Stooping like a cloud, he lifted his burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. they gave back before him, eyes flashing in fear as they turned tail and ran. High in the air he tossed the blazing brand. It flared with a sudden white radiance like lightning; and his voice rolled like thunder.

" _Naur an edraith_ _ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!'_ he cried.

There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a leaf and bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt from tree-top to tree-top. The whole hill was crowned with a dazzling burning light. The swords and knives of the defenders shone and flickered as they fought. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in the air as it flew, an blunged burning into the heart of a great wolf-chieftain. All the other's had fled.

Slowly the fire died till nothing was left but the falling ash, and the rush of adrenaline followed. Breathing heavily, they looked at one another. Their enemies were routed and did not return.

Turning to Pippin, she smiled to see him looking up at the group of them in a bit of awe. "See, peneth, not even wolves can get through."

 **T** hey were weary and footsore, but they trudged doggedly along the rough and winding track for many miles. The sun had turned from noon and began to go west. After a brief halt and a hasty meal they went on again. Before them the mountains frowned down upon them, but their path lay in a deep rough of land and they could see only the higher shoulders and the far eastward peaks.

After a time they came to a sharp bend. There the road, which had been veering southwards between the brink of the channel and a steep fall of the land to the left, turned and went due east again. Rounding the corner they saw before them a low cliff, some five fathoms high, with a broken and jagged top. Over it a trickling of water dripped, through a wide cleft that seemed to have been cared out by a fall that had once been strong and full.

"Indeed, things have changed!' said Gandalf. 'But there is no mistaking this place. There is all that remains of the Stair Falls. If I remember right, there was a flight of steps cut into the rock at their side, but the main road wound away left and climbed with several loops up to the level ground at the top. There used to be a shallow valley beyond the falls right up with the road beside it. Let us go and see what things are like now!"

It was not hard to find the remainder of the steps, and Gimli sprang swiftly up them, followed closely by Thennil. When they reached the top they saw that they could go no further that way, and the reason for the drying up of the Gate-stream revealed. Behind the sinking of the Sun filled the cool western sky with a glimmering gold. Neither sky nor sunset was reflected on its sullen surface. The Sirannon had been dammed and had filled the valley, such as Thennil had never seen before. Beyond the ominous waters was a vast cliff, it's stern face pale in the fading light: final and impassable. No sign of gate or entrance, not a fissure of crack could they see.

"There are the Walls of Moria,' said Gandalf, pointing across the water. 'And there the Gate stood once upon a time, the Elven Door at the end of the road from Hollin by which we have come. But this way is blocked. None of the Company, I guess, will wish to swim in this gloomy water at the end of the day. It has an unwholesome look to it."

"We might find a way round the northern edge,' Legolas stated, his superior sight aiding them in this time, though the light was dim. 'If we might climb up by the main path and see where it will lead us. Even if there were no lake, we could not get our baggage-pony up this stair."

"In any case we cannot take the poor beast with us into the mines,' stated the Wizard, 'The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can."

 **T** raveling round the lake, they climbed to the northernmost corner and found a narrow creek that barred their way. It was green and stagnant, thrust out like a slimy snake towards the enclosing hills. Gimli strode forward and found that it was not very deep, just up to mid-calf on him. Behind him walked the rest in a long file, threading their way with care, under the dark water were weeds and algea aplenty, making the stones slick and their footing treacherous. The hobbits shuddered in disgust at the feeling of the goop between their hairy toes as they made their way across. Once they had gotten to the other side, they wiped off the slimy sludge, grimacing in the process, and stated that they hoped they would' have to pass through any more streams of the like.

As they walked along the cliff, Gimli tapped it with his axe, listening as it rang on the stone. Not far ahead Gandalf did the same, his wooden staff clicking on the solid rock.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,' the dwarf stated, hitting the stone wall again.

"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten,' grumbled the wizard as he hurried on.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?' asked Legolas, stopping in front of the dwarf on purpose and looking down at him.

Gimli growled, glaring out over the lake, but relaxed when he felt Thennil place her hand on his shoulder.

"He is merely trying to rile you up, my friend,' she whispered, rubbing soothing circles over his shoulder.

"Yes, but he better keep his mouth shut around my kin, lest they skin him alive for his insults,' muttered the dwarf, a chuckle in his voice.

They approached the smooth rock wall once again between two twisted and gnarled trees bare of any leaves. Gandalf ran his hands over the flat surface, muttering to himself as he dusted away the dirt. Faintly there could be seen thin swirls and slender veins of luminous silver running through the stone as Gandalf removed the years of dirt from the rock.

"Isildin...it mirrors only starlight and moonlight,' whispered the wizard as he backed away to look at the cloud covered sky. Slowly, the cloud cover moved back, revealing the moon and stars. The lines on the wall began to steadily glow brighter and brighter under its light, forming an arch interlaced with ancient letters and symbols to the eyes of the company. Thennil stepped forward with fascination, and traced the lines with her fingers reverently. It was a masterpiece of art.

"It reads, 'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter.'" The wizard told them as he touched each word with his twisted staff.

"What do you suppose that means?" asked Merry innocently.

"It's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open,' the wizard stated confidently, yet sarcastically in reply to the hobbits question.

Raising his arm and placing his staff on the stone, the wizard began to chant and speak to the rock, "Annon Edhellen, euro hi ammen!" (Gate of the Elves, open now for me!)

The cliffs towered over them in the night, and the wind blew cold against them. And yet, the doors stood fast. Undaunted, the wizard raised his arms again.

"Fennas Nogothrim, last beth lammen." (Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue.)

"Nothing's happening,' Pippin said, watching as the wizard pushed and shoved at the solid stone, grunting.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs.' muttered the wizard in frustration.

"What are you going to do, then?"

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took!' growled the wizard, 'And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words."

He stepped up to the rock again, and lightly touched with his staff the silver star in the middle beneath the sign of the anvil again. Many times he repeated these words in a different order, trying new ones when he was sure that they were wrong. Then he tried other spells, one after another, speaking faster, then slower, or changing the tone from soft to loud. Then he spoke many single words of Elvish speech. Nothing happened.

Again he approached the walls, lifting up his arms he spoke in tones of command and rising wrath. _Edro, edro!_ he cried, and struck the rock with his staff. _Open, open!_ he shouted, and followed it with the same command in every language that they knew, and some that they did not. Then he threw his staff to the ground, and sat down in silence.

SPLASH!

Merry and Pippin elbow each other as they continue to throw stones into the pool, seeing who could toss theirs the farthest. Black ripples grow around each spot the the stones fall. Reeling back, Pippin clutches a stone in his hands, ready to let it fly out over the water.

"Do not disturb the water,' Aragorn whispers, snatching Pippin's arm up in his hand to keep him from throwing the rock.

The ripples keep growing, larger and larger, reaching far out into the lake. They also came closer and closer to the shore, hitting the ones making their way out into the lake and demolishing them. It was very unnerving, and the group scooted away from the water towards the cliff face. Thennil looked down at the hobbits with a motherly glare, one eyebrow raised in question. They squirmed beneath her gaze before she pulled them into a short hug. They continued to watch the water as the ripples became more defined, and there was small splashing noises.

"I do not like it,' she whispered to Aragorn as they watch the disturbed water come nearer and nearer, her hand going to the hilt of her sword.

Frodo wandered over to the wall, looking over the writing and touching the silver lines with his finger, a pinched look upon his face. Then he smiled, and clasped his hands together as a large smile breaks out upon his face.

"It's a riddle,' he gasped, looking over the words again and again. The years of study under Bilbo's tutelage coming into use as he read the words.

"Speak, friend, and enter.' he turned to the wizard, 'What's the elvish word for friend?"

"Oh...mellonin."

The star in the stone shone out briefly more bright than the rest, then faded. Then, all at once, a great doorway was outlined and the stone creaked and cracked as it decided itself down the middle and swung open. The darkness of the cavern was deeper than any night Thennil could ever remember, and it set her more on edge. Gimli and Gandalf are the first to enter, walking into the darkness eagerly. The other's followed slowly after, Boromir and Aragorn giving the water one last look over their shoulders before turning forward.

It was dark in the entrance, and the only light was what little shone into the opening of the doorway from the moon and stars.

"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves,' proclaimed Gimli as they walked in, 'Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This, my friend is the home of my cousin Balin...And they call this a mine,' he snorted, 'A mine!"

Thennil tried not to shudder as she inhaled the dank smell of the cavern, it was musky and smelled of rot. There were a few cobwebs that she could make out hanging from the ceiling and walls, catching on her clothes and sticking to her hood. She was thankful that she had kept it up this whole time, it would have been a pain to try and get the stick spiderwebs out of her long hair.

Gandalf cupped his staff, breathing on a small crystal that was lodged there, and suddenly a light springs up within it. It lit up the chambers, showing the ground littered with bodies.

"This is no mine,' exclaimed Boromir, looking around quickly, 'it's a tomb!"

Inhaling sharply, Thennil gasped as she began to count the many skeletons the lay all over the floor. Their clothes hung on them, eaten by moth and other insects, their armor was rusted and where their eyes would have looked out from underneath the rim of their helmets were empty sockets. The hobbits shrieked, clinging to those closest to them and covering their mouths and noses. Many of the skeletons reached for the sky, or in this case the ceiling of the cave, their bones yellow and aged. Peppered among the armor and shields are arrows and axes, sticking out from different parts of their bodies.

"Oh...no...no...no...NO!' cried Gimli in horror.

Legolas snapped an arrow out of a corpse, flinging it to the ground, "Goblins."

She shuddered, taking a step back to be next to the hobbits, shielding their eyes from any more of the carnage. They all back away towards the entrance, drawing their blades.

"We should have braved Caradhras,' she whispered to Aragorn, looking up at his.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here,' stated the man of Gondor, 'Now get out of here! Get out!"

At that moment several things happened all at once. Frodo felt a slimy something seize him by the ankle, and he fell as it yanked him back. Bill the pony turned tail and gave a wild neigh of fear, running off into the night around the lake. Sam leapt after the pony, and then hearing Frodo's cry he ran back again, weeping and cursing. the others swung round and saw the waters of the lake seething like a hurricane. A host of snakes were swimming up from the southern end.

Out from the water long sinuous tentacles had crawled; it was pale-green, luminous and wet. It's fingered end had a hold of Frodo's foot, and was dragging him to the water violently. Sam was on his knees slashing at the thing with his knife. The arm let go of Frodo, but twenty more leapt up in it's place, snagging his other ankle and dragging him away from his friend. The dark water boiled and a hideous stench rolled off it like steam.

Thennil rushed forward with the other's and began to hack at the appendages, taking one off here and another off there, but they still seemed to multiply. Ducking under a flailing limb , she slashed at a finger-like end that attempted to grab her arm, severing it from the tentacle. She heard Frodo scream as he was flung into the air as the other's stabbed and slashed at the creature.

"Into the mine!" cried Gandalf, pushing the other hobbits in front of him as the group fled from the path of the monster. Thennil hurried away, parrying the grabs that the creature made at her person. She was so focused on getting away that she didn't see a thick flailing limb swing towards her, it's tip bloodied. It knocked her off her feet, her body crashing to the ground as she lost her balance. Aragorn grabbed her under the arms and dragged her towards the entrance, her body too stunned to move. The thing had whipped at her ribs, and in her pain filled haze she realized that they would probably be pretty bruised.

"Legolas!" cried Boromir as the elf waited, arrow ready to distract the creature at the right time. A second later it was loosed into the eye of the creature, causing it to roar in pain, and giving Boromir and Aragorn time to grab their charges and race out of the water and towards the cavern. The creature followed them, its tentacles hitting the doors and walls as its long teeth grated on the stones. Some of the tentacles grabbed hold of the stone doors, crushing and pushing them closed. The stonework shuddered and cracked, and the Fellowship rushed deeper into the cavern as the stones rained down from the ceiling, sealing them into the mines.

As the dust settled, Aragorn held Thennil's body close to his own, sword raised as he listened to the muffled words of those around them.

"Well, well,' said the wizard, blowing on the crystal to light up the area around him, drawing those of the company to him, 'The passage is blocked behind us now, there is only one way out-on the other side of the mountain."

He turned, and made to walk up the stairs, but was stopped by a sharp cry.

"Thennil is hurt!"

Twisting swiftly around, the wizard hurried over to the place where his dearest friend rested in the arms of Aragorn. He dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch her head.

"How did this happen?" he demanded, glaring around them.

"She was guarding our back as we ran from the monster,' came Boromir's voice from the back of the group. He had not liked her at their first meeting, and found her to be rather annoying because she showed him up throughout the journey with her superior knowledge, but he had not wished for her to come to any harm. He was also able to see the apparent worry for the woman upon the Rangers face, and realized for the first time that this Aragorn loved her.

The wizard nodded, and motioned them all to turn their backs so that he might see where she was hurt. Unbuckling the doublet, he pushed up her tunic enough to look at her ribs, and shuddered at the bruises already forming there. He looked into her eyes, and saw that she was awake, though the pain dulled her senses to the point were she was not bothered about her modesty. Aragorn gaped at the scar that ran across her body, cruel and jagged. It was faded, aged by time and the unique ability that the elves had when it came to their bodies healing. The wizard opened his mouth to utter a few spells, but snapped it shut when a small tendril of golden light curled up from her fingers and encircled her waist. It did not entirely heal the bruises, but they faded away until they were almost non-existent. The rangers eyes widened, but he said nothing, assuming that Gandalf had spoken mentally to the elf and thus healed her. Pulling her tunic down they buckled her doublet back up and waited for her to snap out of her haze.

She gasped, and jerked in his arms, blinking quickly. "What happened?"

"You took a little hit, but you should be fine,' said the wizard, standing.

"Do you think you can walk?" asked Aragorn.

She nodded, gripping his hand as she stood to her feet.

Turning from them, the wizard made for the stairs once again, "We have no choice now, we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard...there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world."

They followed after him, avoiding the corpses as best as they could. Thennil leaned on Aragorn a bit as they began, testing out her strength and the mobility of her limbs in regards to her ribs.

"Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **At least of this chapter. Hope you all enjoy it, and please review!**

 **Robin**


	37. Chapter 35

**Hey Everyone! Just wanted to say that the amount of reviews, of not just my previous chapter but of those before has been up. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **SesshomaruLovexThranduil: I'm so glad that you loved the chapter, I'm excited to hear what you think now! And Wow did you read through the chapters fast, reminds me of myself. Hehe.**

 **angel897: Thank you for always reviewing to let me know what you think and that you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **Guest from chapter 36/34: It is definitely going to be more difficult with Arwen involved, if she was at all. For all those reading this, along with you, dear reviewer, Arwen was merely infatuated with Aragorn in my story, but Thennil took it too far, as you will see in the coming chapters. She's pretty extreme when it comes to her sister. As for 'making out', well, a relationship takes time, it doesn't happen in an instant. I'm trying to build a solid relationship between the two.**

 **AndurilofTolkien: Yes, Moria is extremely dangerous, as we shall see! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

As they passed over another bridge, staying away from the edges, the wizard held his staff aloft again to light their way. They travelled up many steps, the hobbits counting as they went to keep their minds off of unpleasant things. Thennil had leaned on Aragorn for a time, using his strength to keep her upright, but had steeled her body and walked on her own after they had passed the one-hundredth step.

Her side ached in the extreme, but she kept her face cool and emotionless. The darkness unnerved her; always there had been light of some kind, even down in Erebor there were mirrors that reflected light deep into the vast corridors and walkways. The sun or the stars would light her way, and keep her from falling into despair when she traveled at night. As they walked, her hand was constantly on her side, and adrenaline pumped through her veins as they continued to climb up or descend the stairs. Her eyes were constantly looking about for any flash of movement or soft scratching on the stones.

They had rested once, each taking another swig from the bottle, Thennil excluded. She had one more stowed in the deep part of her doublet, much smaller, yet stronger than even the concoction that she had given them. She feared that even then they would run out of the stuff. Gandalf had warned them to be careful with the water, seeing as they would not be able to fill their waterskins until they reached Dimrill Dale. There were many streams and wells in the Mines, but the water was not safe to drink, polluted with the dross and muck from the orcs and goblins left in it. It would be three or four marches before they came to it, but it was less than forty miles from West-door to East-gate in a direct line, and the roads wound and twisted numerous times.

After their brief rest they started on their way again. Everyone was eager to get the journey through the dark over with as quickly as possible, and were willing, tired as they were, to go on marching on for several hours. Gandalf walked in the front as before. In his left hand he kept his staff raised, the crystal a glimmering light in the immense dark; in his right hand he held his sword Glamdring. Behind him crept Gimli, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he turned his head from side to side. Behind the dwarf walked Sam and Frodo, who had drawn his sword, sting. No gleam came from the blades of Sting or Glamdring; and that was some comfort, for being of elven work in the Elder Days these swords would shine with a cold light, if any Orcs were near at hand. Legolas came after the two hobbits, then Boromir. On each side of the female elf walked the last two hobbits, peppering her softly as they went along about her adventures and the time that she spent with the dwarves in Erebor. In the rear, grim and silent, walked Aragorn.

The passage twisted this way and that for a few turns, and then began to descend deeper into the roots of the mountains. It went steadily down for a long time before it leveled out once again. The air had slowly grown hotter and hotter, it almost reminded Thennil of the humidity of the far south, which she had visited once when she had been more reckless in her wanderings. It was stifling, but not foul, and at times they felt currents of cool air upon their faces, sweeping down through the holes in the cavern roof above their heads, or openings along the side of the tunnel that looked like you would have to be thinner than a board to fit through. There were many of these. In the pale ray of the wizards staff, Frodo was able to catch glimpses of stairs and arches, and of other passages and tunnels, sloping up, or running steeply down, or opening blankly dark on either side. It was bewildering beyond hope of remembering.

Gimli aided Gandalf very little, except by his stout courage. At least he was not, as were many of the others, troubled by the mere darkness itself. It amazed him that Thennil was so affected by the darkness, as he had seen her within the Lonely Mountain many times visiting her niece and grand-nieces and nephews. He had assumed that she had become accustom to the darkness of his mountain. He had spent many evenings with the company listening her tales or those of his elders. It was often that the Wizard consulted him at points where the choice of way was doubtful; but it was always Gandalf who had the final word. The Mines of Moria were vast and intricate beyond the imagination of Gimli, Gloin's son, dwarf of the mountain-race though he was. To Gandalf the far-off memories of a journey long before were now of little help, though Thennil tried to enlighten this when he voiced his thoughts. Even in the gloom and despite all windings of the road he knew whither he wished to go, and he did not falter, as long as there was a path that led towards his goal.

 **T** hey had entered a cavern that was as high as the outside cliffs, and as littered with holes and crevices as a moth eaten cloth. Here and there along the ground, leaning against the walls and secured with decaying rope, were ladders. Pulleys and rope systems were draped across the room, and deep down into the pit. They crossed over a rickety stone wooden bridge, the hobbits clinging to their companions as they hurried across, fearing the deep pit that seemed to reach and try to swallow them up. Weaving around the uneven walls, they climbed a set of stairs. Gandalf trailed his hands over the walls, bringing his staff closer to as he followed lines of silver along with his gloved fingers.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels,' he said, walking slowly on following the thread of silver, 'But mithril."

He leaned over the edge a bit and shone the light of his staff over the edge, a blue-ish glow blinking in it's light.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"Oh, that was a kingly gift,' gasped the dwarf, 'I did not know about that,' he whispered back towards Thennil.

She chuckled softly, gritting her teeth as it jarred her ribs, which though mostly healed still gave her discomfort.

"Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire,' continued the wizard as they climbed yet another set of stairs. "Mithril! All folk desired it. It could be beaten like copper, and polished like glass; and the Dwarves could make of it a metal, light and yet harder than tempered steel. Its beauty was like that of common silver, but the beauty of mithril did not tarnish or grow dim. The elves dearly loved it, and among many uses they made of it ithildin, starmoon, which you saw on the doors."

Thennil thought of the necklace that she had given Aragorn, thinking now of the meaning of the metal of the delicate thing. Lasting and bright.

 **T** hey continued on, climbing stairs and walking along never ending passageways. It was on one steep staircase that they came across what had once been a dwarf cemetery. The graves had been reopened, while there were other bodies that looked like they had been fleeing from something, bags and books scattered about their persons. Some were missing limbs, or even heads, and Thennil could see long dried blood covering the stairs and stones along the edges of her vision. In a few places she was able to make out words scrawled in dried blood, and it made her shudder at the horrible language that was black speech, the language of the goblins and orcs.

Cresting the top of the stairs, Thennil heard Gandalf hesitate, his robes swishing as he moved about. Heaving herself over the edge, along with Merry and Pippin of who she had been helping to climb the treacherous staircase, she looked about her, wheezing softly. Before them were three doorways, each leading in a different direction. Gandalf stood looking back and forth between them all, a frown on his features and his eyebrows creased in confusion.

"I have no memory of this place."

 **S** itting around a small fire, the grouped waited for Gandalf. They had distributed a small amount of food around, eating it slowly and savoring the taste for as long as they could. Thennil leaned against the wall of stone, humming softly to herself as she ignored the slight stabbing pain the echoed in her side. She had taken out her smallest throwing knife, though it was more of a eating knife really, and had been twirling it faster and faster through her fingers as she stared off into space. Boromir and Aragorn had pulled out their pipes and smoked silently as they spoke softly together, Legolas jumping into the conversation every now and then.

"Are we lost?" whispered Pippin, poking at Merry.

"No, I don't think we are. Shh, Gandalf's thinking."

"Merry!" pestered the hobbit.

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

Thennil dug through her satchel, finding a small roll that had made it through in one piece. Though it was hard on the outside, she was sure that the very inside would be soft enough for the hobbit to eat. She thanked her sister for making such dense rolls, though when she had first started baking she had grumbled over their denseness, saying that rolls had to be light and fluffy, like clouds. She smiled mirthlessly. To be home with her family, safe from the outside world sounded lovely, but it was not her portion. She knew that every person was placed on their world for a purpose, and this was hers.

Tossing the roll into the air once, then twice. She snapped her wrist, letting go of the roll and watched it sail over the area separating her from the hobbits, landing with a 'thunk' in Pippin's lap. He jolted up, and almost stood before snatching the roll from his trousers as it began to roll towards the dirty stones beneath his feet. He smiled, nodding to her, and saluted her with his small hand. She nodded, and settled back down into her spot, looking out over the dark caver below.

She had closed her eyes, meditating silently as she tried to shut out the darkness that seeped into her mind in these dark caverns. Through the fuzziness of her meditation, she heard soft footsteps scraping against the stones coming closer. Blinking, she turned sightly and smirked at the ranger. Even with all of his experience in the wilds he was still unable to sneak up on her. He rolled his eyes at her victorious smile, and sat down beside her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine, the bruising bothers me a bit, but it shouldn't be to much of a problem after today,' she stated, slipping the blade into its scabbard within her bracers.

He raised his eyebrow, 'How are you, really?"

She cocked her head at him, a few unruly curls having escaped from her braid hanging in her face, 'I am fine."

"You know what fine stands for?"

She rolled her eyes,"No, what?"

"Freaked out...

She glared at him.

"Insecure...

Mentally she put her hands on her hips, cursing her brothers for ever teaching Aragorn about acronyms.

"Neurotic...and Emotionally insecure,' he teased.

"And what does that make you? Lame?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

His face screwed up in confusion, "What?"

"Laughable And Mildly Entertaining,' she stated, crossing her arms, 'Don't underestimate the queen of acronymns."

He chuckled, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he sat next to her, "I'm glade that you haven't lost your humor, even if you seem to be drained."

"And what is that supposed to me-

"Ah! It's that way,' cried the wizard from above them.

Leaping up, the group puts out the fire. The men tap out their pipes, stashing them away within their coats, and hurries up to join the wizard and hobbit. Gandalf points to the right hand tunnel, his staff growing brighter, then dimming back to it's original glow.

"He's remembered!" Merry breathed.

"No. but the air doesn't smell so foul down here,' the wizard said, walking down the stairs, 'If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!"

 **T** hey walked down many more stairs, the hobbits had given up counting how many they had climbed or descended long ago, and looked up at the massive archway that greeted them at the end of the tunnel. Pausing the wizard looked about them, holding his staff up into the darkness.

"Let me risk a little more light."

Tapping his staff, the wizard lifted it up to shine upon the great pillars. Gasps of awe were heard from all over the group, their mouths hanging open as they gazed upon the masterpiece of dwarves work.

"Behold! The great realm and dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

The roof towered over their heads, reaching far up. They just got a glimpse of it with a flash from Gandalf's staff. The pillars were so thick that it would take almost the whole fellowship just touching their fingertips together to totally encompass it. Before them stretched a great hall, the pillars rose up to the ceiling, standing in straight lines like soldiers. Though it was silent, Thennil could feel the echoes of a nation once great living and breathing beneath the mountains. She could hear the long dead laughter of children, the gossiping of dwarrowdams, and the clanging of the mining tools on the hard stone as they harvested the mithril deep in the heart of the mountains.

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake,' gasped Sam, his eye widening as he turned about to take in everything with the others. 'There must have been a mighty crowd of dwarves here at one time, and every one of them busier than badgers for five hundred years to make all this, and most of hard rock too! What did they do it all for? They didn't live in these darksome holes, surely?"

"These are not holes,' stated Gimli, slightly offended that the home of his ancestors had been degraded to such in the eyes of the hobbit, 'The Dwarrowdelf of old was not darksome, but full of light and splendor, as is still remembered in our songs and works."

His continued to walk and admire the hall, the workmanship of his people, while steadily a song grew on his lips.

Chanting:

 _The world was young, the mountains green,_

 _No stain yet on the Moon was seen,_

 _Now words were laid on stream or stone_

 _When Durin woke and walked alone._

 _He named the nameless hills and dells;_

 _He drank from yet untasted wells;_

 _He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,_

 _And saw a crown of stars appear,_

 _As gems upon a silver thread,_

 _Above the shadow of his head._

 _The world was fair, the mountains tall,_

 _In Elder Days before the fall_

 _Of mighty Kings in Nargothrond_

 _And Gondolin, who now beyond_

 _The Western Seas have passed away:_

 _The world was fair in Durin's Day._

Walking further into the cavern, they continue to look around in awe listening to Gimli continue the song for many verses and stanzas. Thennil walked among the hobbits, watching her feet lest she trip over them as they stopped to admire this pillar or that. She did nearly trip when they all stopped as Gimli froze, inhaling sharply as his chanting died on his lips. Sensing something around the corner that she could not see, she hurried forward as the dwarf rushed around the corner, Gandalf calling after him.

She followed the dwarf as he ran into another vast, empty chamber. In the ceiling a narrow shaft of light beamed through from a small hole, shining down on a tomb. Littered around the room were dwarf and goblin skeletons, piled haphazardly on top of one another. In a corner there stood a stone walled well, what had once been a wooden cover decade and wrought with rust. The shaft of light filtered down to caress a stone table in the middle of the room. Her chest tightened at the sight, the feeling of foreboding that had been kindled in her heart flaring to life. Gimli fell to his knees before it, resting his axe on the stone ground as he bowed his head, his eyes closed.

"No...no..oh..no!" he moaned, and Thennil knelt beside him, resting her hand over her heart as it sputtered within her. He was dead then.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It is as I feared," whispered the wizard.

"Poor Dwalin,' she whispered, thinking of the dear dwarf's younger brother. 'Rest in peace, my friend, and feast greatly in the halls of Mahal."

"Kilmin malur ni zaram kalel ra narag. Kheled-zaram...Balin trazlifi,' muttered the dwarf mournfully, wailing softly.

Still resting a hand comfortingly on his shoulder, Thennil stood, looking frantically around the room for another body, or tomb. Where was poor, dear, bookish Ori? He had also come to these halls with Balin, and she wished to bring some news to his kinsmen if they ever made it back to the Lonely Mountain.

Gandalf knelt next to the casket, carefully lifting the rotting remains of a book from beneath a stiff bone hand of a long dead dwarf. She inhaled sharply as she took in the knitted, moth-eaten mitts that covered the skeleton hands. Keening softly, she squeezed the dwarfs shoulder. Gandalf paged through the book, and she tries to avoid looking at the slashes and blood littering the cover and pages, images of Ori's last moments being conjured up in her mind.

Slowly, the wizard began to read, "They have taken the Bridge and the second hall; we have barred the gates...but cannot hold them for long...the ground shakes...drums in the deep...we cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no-one save us? They are coming."

"Oh Ori,' she whispered sadly. Such a horrible way to die.

CRASH! CLANG!

The group jumped, nerves on end, and turned towards the noise.

"Fool of a Took!' cried Gandalf angrily, 'Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!"

They all fall silent, wincing at each clang and crash as whatever Pippin knocked down the well falls. It echoes throughout the dry well, the chain jangling. A low rolling BOOM rises from the depths below. Growing louder, then another BOOM...BOOM...as if the caverns of Moria turned into a vast drum. Then a great horn blasts nearby, others answering from further away. The sounds of flipper-like feet against the ground echo through the caverns, screams and cries bouncing loudly off the walls.

Gasping, Sam looks to Frodo, "Mr. Frodo!"

The hobbit pulls at the hilt of his sword, and the plump hobbit gasps at it's blue color.

Leaping into action, Thennil grabs the nearest thing to her, an axe, while Boromir rushes to the doors, "Bar the door!"

"Get back!" Aragorn orders the hobbits, grabbing anything that could be used as a reinforcement. He raced towards the door, pushing it shut with the others while shoving different things into the cracks and crevices. Dragging anything weighty enough to help hold the door, she pushed it up against the rotting wood.

"They have a cave troll,' stated Boromir, leaning against the door heavily.

 _Great! Just what we need!_ she groaned, hurrying back to along with the others, drawing her sword and shield.

Gandalf drew his own sword, wielding his staff in the other hand. They waited as again and again, making the door quiver; and it began to grind back slowly, driving the wedges back. Gimli leapt up on top of Balin's tomb, and raised his axes in anticipation. He growled stomping his feet a little.

"Let them come! There is still one dwarf in Moria that draws breath!" he bellowed.

Aragorn and Legolas had drawn their bows, arrow pulled back, aiming at the door as it shook and shuddered. They could heard pieces of the wood splintering as the goblins and orcs battered away at it with their weapons. A crack appeared in the door, and through it a spear was shoved. Legolas let fly his arrow, piercing the enemy, it cried out in a hideous shriek. Aragorn and Legolas continued to shoot through the small holes one after the other until the door burst open, twenty or more of the foul beast rushing into the room. Arrows were flying and swords were flashing in the little light to be had as they battled the monsters. Thennil was in the thick of it, abandoning her one sword in favor of the twin blades that rested against her legs. Ducking and weaving around the goblins, she let her blades sing as they battled. Gimli ducked a blow and immediately retaliated, hollering loudly as he buried his axes into the heads of two nearby goblins. Aragorn and Boromir stood back to back for a while, thrusting and stabbing as they moved through the mass of black filth.

"The Shire!" cried the hobbits together, charging into the fray from where they had stood behind Gandalf and the others.

They all sprang forward as one, Frodo leaping up beside Aragorn and Boromir. He stabbed with Sting into a hideous flipper like foot. There was a bellow, and the foot jerked back, nearly wrenching Sting from Frodo's grasp. Black drops of blood dripped from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir hurled himself against the orcs again.

"One for the Shire!' cried Aragorn. 'The hobbit's bite is deep!"

Backed against a wall, Sam stood with sword in hand, a frying pan in the other. In desperation he swung wildly at an oncoming goblin, its black face twisted into a grimace of a smile. The frying pan connected with the things head, a ringing sound echoing through the room as it keeled over, limp on the floor. Eyes widening, the hobbit tried not to gag before he was assaulted by yet another goblin. Swinging his frying pan he clobbers that one too.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this,' he mutters.

When most of them had fallen, the rest fled shrieking, leaving the defenders unharmed, except for Sam who had a scratch across his scalp when he had stepped up to block a blade from falling on his master. Their breather was short-lived as the door was bowled over, the doorframe cracking and toppling as a huge, grey, cave troll waddled into the room, swinging his club.

The fellowship jumped back as the thing whirled upon them, his club swinging to and fro as it brought it slamming down onto the ground where one of the hobbit had been moments before. Legolas shot arrows upon arrows into it, while Boromir and Aragorn held the chain to keep the beast from squashing Sam beneath it's hoof-like foot. The beast whipped around, using its club, and tossed Boromir across the wall. The man slumped, his whole body aching as he sat up, only to come face to face with a goblin, sword upraised to take off his head. Flying through the air came a sword, twisting and turning, then plunging like a spear through the creatures neck. Thennil tossed Aragorn one of her blades, sheathing the other and withdrawing her own longsword.

Fighting off the other goblins, Thennil notices that the troll has found the hobbits. Merry and Pippin cry out, dodging the falling club as they hide behind one of the pillars in the room. Frodo, leans against the other, trying not to breath hard. She parried and slashed, trying to move towards the hobbits as the troll as it hunted Frodo.

"Frodo!"

The troll moves around the pillar, playing a deadly game of hide and seek. Frodo maneuvers around the pillar, the troll sniffing loudly trying to figure out where he went. In a flash, Frodo is on the ground, wiggling back from the troll into a corner as Aragorn rushes through the orcs towards him. Frodo, screams his name, grabbing onto the pillar as the troll grabs hold of his legs. The hobbit slices at the beast, causing it to drop him on the rubble. Dazed, the hobbit tried to raise his sword as he stumbled to his feet. In his blurry vision, he sees Aragorn stabbing the troll with a spear, grunting as he tries to push it back by himself. Then, with a single blow, the troll tosses the ranger into a pillar, knocking him out. Leaping to his feet, Frodo stabbed and slashed at the troll, shaking Aragorn as he did so, but there was no response. Knocking the hobbit back into a corner the troll raised it's weapon.

"Frodo!" she screams, sending a small flash of her power out through her fingertips at the troll, it's golden light distracting it for but a moment before it thrusts into the hobbit.

It was as if time stood still as the halfling stood, his sword in hand, his eyes rolling back into his head as the seconds ticked by. Then he dropped to the ground.

She screamed, her eyes flashing gold as her power lit up her blade in a golden light as she slashed and stabbed through their foes in a fury. Her heart was empty. She had seen Aragorn fall. He was gone, and she would not be able to save him, or the halfling. Merry and Pippin rushed the giant, stabbing his tough leather like skin over and over again in their anger. The others also went on to take down the beast.

Dropping her sword on the ground, Thennil knelt next to the one whom she loved. Cradling his face in her hands as she let a few tear drops fall from her eyes.

"No, you can't do this to me,' she gasped, blocking out all other noise, 'I lost you once, I can't go through that again."

Her heart was breaking within her.

"I love you,' she whispered softly, hiccuping as she burying her face in his chest as the tears flooded her eyes.

 **A cliffhanger.**

 **No really, we all know what happens in the movies... HE LIVES! HEHEHe...**

 **Please review!**

 **Robin**


	38. Chapter 36

A hand ruffled her hair, snapping her head up to look at the amused silvery-blue eyes that she loved.

"I'm not dead. I may be getting older, but I'm not dead yet,' he teased, groaning a little as he sat up.

She sighed in relief, before the frightened voice of Sam pierced her joyous fog. "Frodo! Oh Mr. Frodo!"

Aragorn is up in a moment, running to crouch down before the prone hobbit. Turning the halfling over, he face darkens.

HAHHH! gasped the hobbit, coughing. Aragorn's jaw drops as Sam tumbles to his knees beside his master. Frodo holds his chest as he gasps for air.

"He's alive!" Cried Sam, tears in his eyes.

Sitting up, the halfling looked around, "I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

"You should be dead. That spear would have skewerd a wild boar,' stated the ranger in shock.

Gandalf came closer, leaning on his staff, "I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye."

Frodo pulled at the buttons of his shirt, revealing a sparkling coat of mail worn beneath.

"So that's where Bilbo's coat of mithril went,' chuckled chuckled Sam.

"You are full of surprises, Master Baggins,' muttered Gimli.

"No time to discuss how he came into it's possession now,' said the wizard as a resonating BOOM echoed through the stone halls. "To the bridge of Khazad-Dum!"

 **T** hey rushed out into the hall, Gandalf lighting the way. The 'BOOM's' followed them, along with all the screeching and yowling of the orcs and goblins as they climbed along the ceiling and up the pillars towards them as they ran. The beasts leapt up from crevices and cracks like grasshoppers, swarming them. Running down the hall, Thennil could see that they were slowly being surrounded on all sides. Urging the hobbits on as fast as their short legs could carry them, she whispered encouragements as she looked every which way at the building mass of black shadows.

Skidding to a stop, the taller folk of the fellowship circled the hobbits as they raised their swords threateningly. If they were going to die, they were going to go down fighting. The goblins yelled and screeched, banging their weapons together to create a loud annoying clanging. They snarled at the hobbits, licking their sharp pointed teeth as they stared at them hungrily. Then all grew silent, and the goblins seemed to be holding their breath. The company did the same, looking around then as they waited for the mass to attack them.

A low roar rippled through the cavern, causing the goblins to shrink back from the group. Their chatters and screeches turned to ones of fear rather than those of the hunt as they shook their heads. Another low rumble echoed through the group, and they hurried away from the group, climbing up the pillars as fast as they could; disappearing into the crevices they came from, or fleeing out the doors along the edges of the hall in terror.

Her heart paused in her chest as she listened to the roar. She had never heard it with her own ears, but Glorfindel had described it in great detail to her in one of their training sessions long ago. She had been but a youngling, and it had given her nightmares for the longest time. She shuddered as the cavern lit with a great smoldering red light.

"What is this new devilry?" asked the man of Gondor, looking over Gandalf's shoulder as he held the torch aloft.

She could not see Gandalf's face, but she was sure that is was as pale as her own. His head was bowed, and she knew he was thinking. Of what she did not need to be told, she could sense his tapped down fear of what lay deep beneath these halls.

"A balrog,' he said, raising his head a little, gripping his staff harder, 'A demon of the ancient world."

She could sense the fear rise up in Legolas and Aragorn, they had both heard stories from Glorfindel about the evil beasts.

"And one that we don't want to see or chat with,' she muttered, shifting on her feet.

"This foe is beyond any of you,' said the wizard, looking at them, his eyes grew larger, 'Run! RUN!"

Off down the hall they ran, ducking beneath the arch of a low door as they hurried down the tunnel. Boromir hurried down the steps ahead of them all, the torch lighting his way as he rushed. Running at the back of the line with Gandalf, Thennil panted. The hobbits ran before her, their hairy feet slapping against the stones.

Glancing at Gandalf as they ran, she gasped, "It is possible to take the Balrog."

"Nay, it is to dangerous," he panted.

"I was not trained by Glorfindel for nothing, Gandalf,' she stated, picking up the pace, 'Perhaps this is my purpose on this quest of ours."

"Not this time,' said the wizard as they bumped into the back of the group.

Boromir teatered over the edge, waving his arms to keep his balance. He had dropped the torch, and it was still falling down, down, down, into the red glow below them. The other's had grabbed onto him to keep him from toppling over the edge of the abyss. She caught the hobbits before they went careening over the edge, pulling them to her body. Aragorn stood behind her, Gandalf leaning against his hand and the wall for support.

"Lead them on, Aragorn,' breathed the wizard. "The bridge is near."

Aragorn looked, seeing the bridge in the distance. He looked back at Gandalf doubtfully. The wizard grimace angrily. Tossing the ranger roughly into the other wall he snarled.

"Do as I say! Swords are of no more use here!"

Running down the steps, the company bumped and jostled one another in their hurry. Thennil ran at the front of the group, her eyesight sharp as she assessed their pathway across the chasm on the bridges and walkways. She halted, waiting at the edge of a gap in the path, Merry and Pippin bumping against her legs as she did so. Quickly calculating the jump, she turned to take hold of Pippin in her arms as Legolas Jumped across the space fluidly. Coiling her strength in her legs, she took a running leap and landed on the other side of the space. Though just as agile as Legolas, the added weight of the hobbit made her stumble as she landed. Legolas took hold of her arm to steady her as she righted herself. A roar echoes in the red glow behind them.

"Gandalf!" motioned the Elf, backing up enough to give the wizard room to land, but not so far that he wouldn't be able to catch him if he stumbled.

Setting the hobbit down, she felt him cling to her leg at the closeness of the edges of the stairs. Hushing his fears with a soft whisper, she watched as the wizard leapt over the chasm, his litheness belying his age, he could be quite graceful when he wanted to be. Arrows whistle through the air, whizzing past Boromir and the remaining hobbits. Stringing her bow, she let loose a rain of arrows on the goblins shooting from above, causing quite a few to fall from their perches. Grinning smugly she flexed her fingers, the grin dropped quickly at the remaining plight of her friends. Gimli, while being shorter, had the disadvantage of not having the long leap that the others had.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" he stated, taking a few steps back and rushing at the gap with a bellow. He just made it, and teetered on the edge, waving his arms frantically before Legolas grabbed at his beard. She winced at the rough hold he had on the dwarf's course hair, and the pull it had on his face. "Mind the Beard!"

Looking up at the two remaining above them, Thennil's breath caught in her throat as more of the stairs fell away. The stairs shuddered and swayed, the gap impossible to jump now. Aragorn swayed back and forth, holding tight to Frodo as arrows flew all around them. He leaned this way and that as the door behind them grew redder and redder, the light almost a burning fire. A growled rang through the caves, and the archway behind the dos cracked and split. The ceiling groaned, and pebbles and rubble rained down upon them all as they ducked to cover their heads. A large chunk of rock shuddered, falling away from the wall down upon them. Aragorn shuffled Frodo forward just in time to avoid the boulder as it crashed through the stairs behind them. The hobbits eyes were wide in fear as they teetered on the small section of stair. A larger crack rings from below, and the column upon which the stairs stands begins to sway.

"Hold on!" Aragorn cries, gripping Frodo's clothes so hard his knuckles begin to turn white.

"Come on!" shout's Legolas shouts as the stairs lean forward, sliding off the crack in their column. His arms are open and waiting as Aragorn calculates the timing. Then they are in the air, sailing over the little opening left by the shifting stairs, toppling to the ground.

Helping them to their feet, they flee down the stairs and into another hall. Here the red glow has already been. Flames leap up from the stone, licking and crackling as they eat hungrily at it. They run through, patting and stomping as their clothes catch fire from the sparks and flames jumping around them. Thennil rips off her hood, casting it aside into the flames as it continues to burn.

"To the bridge! Fly!"

The others gallop over to the bridge, but Thennil stays behind with the wizard, watching the flames. From deep within the fire, a great shadow stands, horns adorning it's head and glowing, fire-like eyes that burn into her mind. It is her nightmares brought to life. Smoke billows around the beast as flames play across it's back like live hair. It stomps towards them, and Gandalf turns, running after the other.

One by one they cross the bridge. Boromir and Aragorn go first, testing the soundness of it as the others hurry after them, trying not to look down at the deep chasm below them, which at any second they could trip and fall into. Who knows if they would ever stop falling? Thennil ushered Gimli and the hobbits over before her, glancing back frequently to see how close the Balrog got to them. Once the little ones were over, she followed on quick feet, looking straight ahead and letting her senses guide her as she traversed the thin bridge. They continue up the other side, into the archway leading out of the mountains.

Skidding to a stop, Thennil gapes at Gandalf. He had been right behind her when she ran over the bridge, but had stopped in the middle. The heat of the fires made the air warm and stuffy, hard to breath. The wizards robes flew about him as he stood firm in the middle of the bridge, glaring at the Balrog.

The Balrog had reached the end of the bridge. Gandalf stood steady in the middle of the span, leaning on his staff in his left hand. In his right Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reach out like to vast wings. It raised the whip, a golden string of fire, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But the wizard stood firm.

"You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still in their hiding places, and a dead silence fell. 'I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass!"

The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small and altogether alone: grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm. Thennil ran towards the bridge, but an arm caught her, holding her tight as she struggled to join the wizard.

"Let me go!' she hissed, 'I can help him!"

From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming.

Glamdring glittered white in answer.

There was a ringing clash and a stab of white fire. The Balrog fell back, and its sword flew up in molten fragments. The wizard swayed on the bridge, stepped back a pace, and then again stood still.

"You cannot pass!' he said again.

With a bound the Balrog leaped full upon the bridge, causing it to crack and creak. It's whip whirled and hissed.

Then Aragorn and Boromir moved. "He cannot stand alone! _Elendil!_ I am with you Gandalf!"

"Gondor!" shouted Boromir, running after the man.

At that moment Gandalf lifted his staff, and crying aloud he smote the bridge before him. The staff broke asunder, splinters flying in every direction, and fell from his hand. A blinding sheet of white flame sprang up. The bridge cracked. Right at the Balrog's feet it broke, and the stone upon which it stood crashed into the gulf, while the rest remained, poised, quivering like a tongue of rock thrust out into emptiness.

It was with a terrible cry, one that made their eardrums ring, that the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. Gandalf turned to them, grunting, and lifted his foot to take a step. Up from the darkness the great fiery whip flashed, twisting itself around the wizards ankle, and yanked. The wizard fell to his feet, grappling with the stone as he was drug across the remainder of the bridge. Clinging to the edge, he gripped the ridge tighter, his eyes wide. Frodo screamed, running to him. Boromir snagged the hobbit, holding him as he struggled in his arms, while Thennil looked on from her place in Aragorn's arms as the wizard slid into the abyss.

"Fly, you fools!" he cried, and was gone.

"Nooooo!" cried Frodo, his voice dropping to a tear-filled wail.

Thennil turned away from the abyss, leaning into Aragorn's chest as she shuddered, weeping silently. He stood with his arms around her, body stiff as he stared at the place where the wizard had disappeared. Boromir held the struggling hobbit to his chest, shaking his head as he also watched the area. The cackle of the goblins from their perches echoed through the air, and arrows began to whistle past their ears, snapping them out of their shock. Slowly the rest of the bridge cracked, and fell down to join its other part in the chasm. Running back to the other's Aragorn looked around them in the dark.

"Come! I will lead you now!' he called. 'We must obey his last command. Follow me!"

They stumbled wildly up the great stairs beyond the door, Aragorn in the lead. Thennil kept to the rear, with Boromir not far ahead of her ushering the hobbits on. At the top was a wide echoing passage. Along this they fled. Frodo heard Sam at his side weeping, and then he found that he himself was weeping as he ran. _Doom, doom, doom_ the drum-beats rolled behind, mournful now and slow; _doom!_

They ran on. The light grew before them; great shafts pierced the roof. They ran swifter. They passed into a hall, bright with daylight from its high windows in the east. They fled across it. Through its huge broken doors they passed, and suddenly before them the Great Gates opened, an arch of blazing light. Out of the Gates they ran and sprang down the huge and age-worn steps, the threshold of Moria.

Thus, at last they came beyond hope under the sky and felt the wind once again on their faces.

They collapsed on the stones, the sun shining down on them as the wept brokenly. Sam plopped down on a stone, his chubby body shaking violently as he sobbed, wiping tears from his dirty face. Merry sat next to Pippin as the lad as he wailed softly, shaking in his friends arms as the blonde tried to comfort him. Boromir had a hold on Gimli, who struggled against him to get back to the mountain, his grief turned to anger at his people for waking such a beast. Legolas looked over the company silently, seeing Frodo further off by himself, a tear tracking it's way down his pale cheek.

Thennil was far away from the company, staring off into the distance her eyes unseeing. Though she would have loved to weep and wail, to let the walls down so that her tears might fall, she could not bear to let herself show any emotion. Elves felt deeper than mortals, their feelings multiplied, larger. It was why so many thought of them as cold and out of reach, so emotionless were their faces at times, so serious. It was because if they let their feelings truly show, it would overwhelm them. Glassy eyed, her back ramrod straight, she tried to calm her rebellious heart. To ease the guilt that bubbled up from within.

"Legolas! Get them up!' came the stern voice of Aragorn.

Boromir turned to the ranger, grief written all over his ragged features. "Give them a moment! For pities sake!"

The ranger shook his head at the man, "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with goblins and orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up!"

Grabbing Sam's shoulder, he yanks him to his feet, 'On your feet, Sam."

The hobbit stumbles, following after him. Turning his head, he catches sight of the bright, coppery hair he loved so dearly. He walked slowly up behind her, noting her stiff posture and clenched hands as she looked out over the landscape. He grimaced at the sadness in her eyes, the shine of them telling him all he needed to know. His hand slipped into her smaller one, and squeezed comfortingly.

"It wasn't your fault,' he whispered, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I know,' she whispered back, looking over her shoulder at him, 'But I wish I could have fought harder to save him."

He nodded, "Some thins are not to be."

"Aye."

He looked over the company as they started their way down the mountainside, 'Farewell, Gandalf. Did I not say to you, _if you pass the doors of Moria, beware?_ Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?"

"There is always hope,' she whispered on the breeze, the wind caressing his ear.

"We must do without hope,' he said, ignoring her, 'At least we may yet be avenged. Let us gird ourselves and weep no more! Come! We have a long road, and much yet to do."

And so saying, he took off at the lead. The Company now went down the road from the Gates. It was rough and broken from years of no upkeep, fading to a winding track between heather and whin that thrust amid the cracking stones. But still could be seen that once long ago a great paved way had been there. In places there were ruined works of stone beside the path, and mounds of green topped with slender birches, or fir-trees sighing in the wind. An eastward bend led them hard by the sward of Mirrormere, and there not far from the roadside stood a single column broken at the top.

"That is Durin's Stone!' cried Gimli. 'I cannot pass without turning aside for a moment to look at the wonder of the dale!"

"Be swift then,' said Aragorn, looking back towards the Gates. 'The Sun sinks early. The Orcs will not, maybe, come out till after dusk, but we must be far away before nightfall. The Moon is almost spent, an did will be dark tonight."

"Come with me, Frodo!' cried the dwarf, also beckoning to Thennil, springing from the road. 'I would not have you go without seeing Kheled-zaram.' He ran down the long green slope. Frodo and Thennil followed, the hobbit slower than she, drawn by the blue water in spite of hurt and weariness; Sam coming up behind him.

Beside the standing stone Gimli halted and looked up. It was cracked and weather-worn, and the faint ruins upon its side could not be read. 'This pillar marks the spot where Durin first looked in the Mirrormere,' said the dwarf. 'Let us look for ourselves once, ere we go!"

They stooped over the dark water. At first Thennil could see nothing, the water was so deep and dark. Then slowly she was able to make out forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue, and the peaks like plumes of white flame above them; beyond there was a space of sky. There like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars, though the sunlight was in the sky above. Of her own stooping form no shadow could be seen. It was one of the most amazing things she had ever seen, or experience in her long life.

"O Kheled-zaram fair and wonderful!' said Gimli. 'There lies the Crown of Durin till he wakes. Farewell!" He bowed, and turned away, and hastened back to the greensward to the road again. Thennil followed with Frodo and Sam behind, deep in thought.

"What did you see?' asked Pippin to Sam, but the red-head was to deep in thought to answer.

 **A** long the Silverlode they walked, and in the distance before them they could see it leaping down to the trough of the valley, and running away into the lower lands. It got lost in a golden haze of which they could not see through, though the hobbits wondered.

"There lie the woods of Lothlorien!' said Legolas. 'That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and the golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still is our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime!"

Thennil smiled at the apt description of her Grandmother's realm. It was indeed a beautiful land, filled with good things, and guarded viciously by the Marchwardens. Pulling another hood from her satchel, she draped it over her head and hair, feeling the need to mask herself from her kinsmen.

 **I** t was dark. Deep night had fallen. There were many clear stars to help light their way, but the fast-waning moon would not be seen till late. Gimli and Frodo were at the rear, walking softly and not speaking, listening for any sound upon the road behind. The night-wind blew chill up the valley to meet them. Before them a wide grey shadow loomed, and they heard an endless rustling of leaves like poplars in the breeze as they slipped into the wood.

"Lothlorien!' cried Legolas in awe. 'Lothlorien! We have come to the eaves of the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter!"

Under the night the trees stood tall before the,, arched over the road and stream that ran suddenly beneath their spreading boughs. In the dim light of the stars Thennil could see that their stems were grey, and their quivering leaves a hint of fallow gold. She smiled, knowing that she would be entering her Grandmother's domain soon, and would be enjoying the comforts of her hospitality.

"Here let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep us tonight from the peril that comes behind,' said the ranger, adjusting the strap of his pack.

"If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world,' said Gimli.

"It is long since Legolas' folk have journeyed hither back to the land whence we wandered ages long ago,' Thennil told him, 'but Lorien is not yet deserted, for there is a secret power here that holds evil from the land. Nevertheless its folk are seldom seen, and maybe they dwell now deep in the woods and far from the northern border."

"Is there no other way?' asked Boromir uncertainly, looking up at the woods foreboding.

"What other fairer way would you desire?' asked Aragorn.

"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords,' said Boromir. 'By strange paths has this Company been led, and so far to evil fortune. Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria instead of taking the Passage to Rohan, it was to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. but of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed."

"Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth,' said Aragorn. 'But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlorien. Believe what you will, there is no other way for us - unless you would go back to Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all alone."

"Then lead on!' said Boromir. 'But it is perilous."

"Perilous indeed,' said Aragorn, 'fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!"

They had gone little more than a mile into the forest when they cam upon yet another stream flowing down swiftly from the tree-clad slopes that climbed back westward towards the mountains. They heard it splashing over a fan away among the shadows on their right. Its dark hurrying waters ran across the stones before them, laughing in the starlight, and joined with the Silverlode in a swirl of dim pools among the roots of trees.

"Here is Nimrodel!' cried Thennil, recognizing the stream that she would visit and bath in while in her Grandmother's woods. 'Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs of long ago, and still they are sung in the halls of Elrond and those of Mirkwood, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for the water is said to be healing to the weary."

She went forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.

"Follow me!' she called, removing her boots and stockings, tying the laces and throwing them over her shoulder. 'The water is not deep Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief."

One by one they climbed down the bank and followed her. The men, dwarf, and Elf had to pause to pull off their smelly shoes and socks, tying the laces and throwing them over their shoulders as she had done. Frodo stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. Thennil discarded her things, unstrapping her sword belt and laying it next to her satchel as she unbound her hair, letting it bounce free. Snagging a comb from her pack, she sat at the edge of the water, slowly combing through the knots a the end of her hair as she dangled her slender feet in the water. The males in her company watched her in fascination as she slid the comb through her long tresses, entranced.

At length silence fell between the group as they listened to the water. Frodo was sure that amid the natural music there were voices singing in the shadows, mingling with the sounds of the water in a beautiful harmony.

"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?' she asked, swirling her toes in the water. 'I will sing you a song about her, it is she who bore the same name as this stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as she in Rivendell now sing it."

In a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above, she began to sing:

An elven-maid there was of old,

A shining star by day:

Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,

Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,

A light was on her hair

As sun upon the golden boughs

In Lorien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs where white,

And fair she was and free;

And in the wind she went as light

As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,

By water clear and cool,

Her voice as falling silver fell

Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,

In sunlight or in shade;

For lost of yore was Nimrodel

And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey

Beneath the mountain-lee

Awaited her for many a day

Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands

Arose, and loud it cried,

And drove the ship from elven-strands

Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,

The mountains sinking grey

Beyond the heaving waves that tossed

Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore

Now low beyond the swell,

And cursed the faithless ship that bore

Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-King,

A lord of treen and glen,

When golden were the boughs in spring

In fair Lothlorien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,

As arrow from the string,

And dive into the water deep,

As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,

The foam about him shone;

Afar they saw him strong and fair

Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,

And on the Hither Shore

No tidings Elven-folk have heard

Of Amroth evermore.

Her voice could sing no longer, as her mind drifted over the sadness of the day. "I cannot sing any more. That is but a part. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlorien, Lorien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened the evil that lay sleeping within the mountains."

"But the Dwarves did not make the evil,' said Gimli.

"No, they did not; but evil still came,' she answered sadly, laying her comb aside as she stood in the shallows of the stream, her hair falling down her back like the waterfall that they could hear in the distance. Her lithe form seemed transformed before their eyes, her dirty clothes disappearing and a gown of silvery starlight gleamed in it's place, and a light shone upon her forehead as she waded in the stream. She was like a bright star fallen from the sky, dancing in the light of the waning Moon.

 **I love Tolkien to much not to include this scene, changed though it may be. I didn't realize it as I was reading though, but this song seems to be describing Thennil in the beginning. I know that it seems like I'm taking forever to make any progress, but trust me, this is going to be worth it. I would hate to butcher what Tolkien wrote, even though I like the version that Peter Jackson portrays onscreen.**

 **Enjoy! Review!**

 **Robin**


	39. Chapter 37

The Company had travelled along, but now they turned aside from the path, and went into the shadow of the deeper woods, westward along the mountain-stream away from the Kilverlode. Not far from the falls of Nimrodel they found a cluster of trees, some which overhung the stream. Their great grey trunks were of mighty girth, but their height could not be guessed. Beyond these trees there was a great meadow, filled to the brim with flowers of every sort, raising their heads as dawn began to creep up upon them.

They continued to wander through the trees, following after Aragorn as he led them through the canopy. Gimli looked about them uncertainly, his eyes looking beneath every bush and fallen branch for something. The hobbits wandered after the other's looking this way and that in awe, they had never seen trees so large, or so beautiful. Merry remarked that even the old forest had not been so interesting compared to this wood. Pippin hardily agreed, having spent much of his time there under the leaves with Merry as a young child exploring and getting into mischief.

"Stay close, young hobbits,' said the dwarf, grabbing hold of Frodo's arm. 'They say there's a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell."

The hobbit looks around frightened.

"...and are never seen again."

Thennil smirked under her hood, _The only person even close to being an elf-witch is me. Grandmother doesn't do anything of the sort that Gimli is thinking._ A small breeze swept past her, rustling the leaves around them naturally. Looking about, and up into the trees, she was sure that there were shadows following the, but she did not speak.

"Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!' said the dwarf, hefting his axe.

Arrows appeared in their faces out of no where; Legolas and herself drew their own rapidly as they stared at the cloaked figures.

"The dwarf breaths so loud, we could have shot him in the dark,' spoke their leader.

Thennil nodded, lowering her arrow. She smiled under her hood at Haldir. He spoke with Aragorn, and bid him and the hobbit, Frodo, to join them up in the flet above them. Out of the morning shadows, a ladder was let down: it was made of rope, silver-grey and glimmering in the pale light of the sun, and though it looked slender it proved strong enough to bear many men. Aragorn hurried lightly up it, and Frodo followed slowly; behind came Sam trying not to breathe loudly, fearing that he might be shot by these arrow happy Elves. The branches of the mallorn-tree grew out nearly straight from the trunk above the company as they watched the group disappear into the canopy.

"Can you hear anything?' asked Pippin to Legolas and Thennil.

"If you all are quiet, I might be able to hear what they are saying,' she whispered.

This is what she heard.

"We seldom use any tongue but our own; for we dwell now in the heart of the forest, and do not willingly have dealings with any other folk. Even our own kindred in the North are hundred from us. But there are some of us still who go abroad for gathering news and the watching of our enemies, and they speak the languages of other lands. I am one. Haldir is my name. My brothers, Rumil and Orophin, speak little of your tongue.

'But we have heard rumors of your coming, for the messengers of Elrond passed by Lorien on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. We had not heard of - hobbits, or halflings, for many a long year, and did not know that any yet dwelt in Middle-earth. You do not look evil! And since you came with two elves of our kindred, we are willing to befriend you, as Elrond asked; though it is not our custom to lead strangers through our land. But you must stay here tonight. Call your friends up to join us."

Looking to her friends as she had relayed the words from above, they all stood and began to climb to rope ladder. She went last of all, right behind Gimli who was not overly fond of the hanging thing. He mumbled about dwarves needing to have two feet on solid ground, not galavanting about like woodland spirits among the branches of the trees as he climbed. Once they had all ascended the ladder, Gimli was hidden behind those taller than him among the hobbits.

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduillion,' cried Haldir, clasping the elf's arm tightly.

"Govannas vin gwennen le, Haldir o Lorien,' replied the elf in kind.

Halide glanced back at Aragorn, whom he had brought up with the first hobbit, "A, Aragorn in Dunedain istannen le ammen."

"Halide."

Gimli grumbled from among the hobbits, pushing forward a little, "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!"

"A dwarf!' cried Haldir, still speaking in the language of his forefathers. 'That is not well. We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days. They are not permitted in our land. I cannot allow him to pass."

Thennil stiffened, her jaw clenching as she glared from under her hood at the warden.

"But he is from the Lonely Mountain, one of Thorin's trusty people, and friendly to Elrond,' said Frodo. 'Elrond himself chose him to be one of our companions, and he has been brave and faithful."

"Even so, Elrond does not keep this wood, neither does he reign here. He is free to make his own choices in his own realm,' replied the elf, taking on a haughty air.

"And refusing to guide a guest of the Lady of the Wood's granddaughter is a good choice?" she asked from beneath her hood, causing the elf to turn to her.

"Granddaughter?" he asked puzzled.

She rolled her eyes, flinging back her hood with a flourish of her hand, revealing her head of golden copper curls and striking sapphire eyes. They flashed in the early morning light, anger lining their edges.

"M-My Lady,' gasped the Elf, bowing before her in respect, which he had not done for even Legolas.

The other's in the group turned to look at Thennil curiously. Boromir glared at her from under his brow, but said nothing. Gimli's mouth hung open as she stood tall, taking on the authority and attention due to a princess.

"Aye, it has been long since I traversed the wood, it's welcome has lessened of late,' she stated, staring at the elf.

"I-I did not know that you were apart of the company that Elrond sent us word about,' he still was getting a handle on his awe.

"Snap out of it, Haldir. It's only been twenty years since I visited the wood, I haven't changed that much,' she said, pulling at her dirty tunic.

He shook his head, 'This changes things. Any friend of the Lady is welcome in our wood, but the dwarf must be blindfolded."

Gimli stiffened, glaring at the elf angrily. Thennil put a hand on his shoulder, causing Haldir to shudder, gagging. She seared him with a deadly glare of her own, and raised her hand.

"Then we to shall be blindfolded."

"My Lady-

"Nay, we are one company, and if one of us must be treated differently, then we all shall be treated like such. Besides,' she smiled cheekily, 'Even with a blindfold I would be able to find my way around."

The elf shook his head, "It shall be so."

The day came pale from the East. As the light grew it filtered through the yellow leaves of the mallorn, and it seemed to the hobbits that the early sun of the cool summer's morning was singing. Pale-blue sky peeped among the moving branches. Looking through an opening on the south side of the flet, they were able to see all of the valley where the Kilverlode lay like a sea of fallow gold tossed gently in the breeze.

The morning was still young and cold when the company set out again, this time blindfolded, guided by Haldir and the other elves as they made their way through the wood. They went back to the path that still went on along the west side of the Silverlode, and for some way they followed it southward. There were many prints of orc and goblin feet in the earth that Thennil noticed through the small opening at the bottom of her blindfold, and she hoped that they would not bump into any of them. It was highly doubtful that they would, Haldir's elf warriors would have taken out any form of a threat to the Golden Wood.

"There is one of my people yonder across the stream,' came the elf's voice as they all stopped near the stream, 'though you are unable to see him." He gave a low whistle like call like that of a bird, and out of a thicket of young trees an Elf stepped, clad all in grey, but with his hood thrown back. Haldir skillfully cast over the stream a coil of grey rope, and he caught it and bound the end about a tree near the bank.

"Celebrant is already a strong stream here, as you will see,' said Haldir, 'and it runs both swift and deep, and is very cold. We do not set foot in so far north, unless we must. But in these days of watchfulness we do not make bridges,' their blindfolds were removed. 'This is how we cross! Follow me!"

Making the end of the rope fast upon another tree, and then ran lightly along it, over the river and back again, as if he were on a road.

"I can walk this path,' said Legolas; 'but the others excluding Thennil do not have this skill. Must they swim?"

"No!' said Haldir. 'We have to more ropes. We will fasten them above the other, one shoulder-high, and another half-high, and holding these the strangers should be able to cross with care.'

When this slender bridge had been made, the Company passed over. Legolas glided across quite like the other elves, his feet barely touching the rope as he went along. The hobbits walked across with the help of the lines, teetering in the middle as they tried not to look down into the rushing the hobbits, Pippin proved the best for he was sure-footed, and he walked over quickly, holding only with one hand; but he kept his eyes on the bank ahead and did not look down. Sam shuffled along, clutching hard, and looking down into the pale raging water as if it was a chasm in the mountains and not a river of bubbling water. He breathed with relief when he was safely across. Gimli was the most hesitant, reminding the that a dwarf belonged on the ground, not up in the air like a bird. Thennil chuckled at his nervousness, and followed along behind him on the rope as he slowly edged his way across the rope.

When at length they had all crossed over the strange bridge and were gathered on the east bank of the Silverlode, the Elves untied the ropes and coiled two of them. Rumble, who had remained on the other side, drew back the last one, slung it over his shoulder, and with a wave of his hand went away, back to Nimrodel to keep watch.

"Now friends,' said Haldir, 'You have entered the Naith of Lorien, or the Gore, as you would say, for it is the land that lies like a spearhead between the arms of Silverlode and Anduin the Great. We allow no strangers to spy out the secrets of the Naith. Few indeed are permitted even to set foot there."

And so the blindfolds were returned to their eyes. Gimli was still not happy about them, grumbling under his breath at the elves and cursing their extreme cautiousness. Slowly the Company filed slowly along the paths in the wood, led by Haldir, while the other elves walked behind or at their side so that they might not trip and fall. They felt the ground beneath their feet smooth and soft, and after a while they walked more freely, without fear of hurt or fall.

 **A** ll that day the Company marched on, until they felt the cool of evening come and heard the early night-wind whispering among the golden leaves. Then they rested their tired bodies without the fear that had plagued them since Moria. In the morning they went on again, walking without haste. At noon they halted, and the company became aware that they had passed out under the shining Sun. Suddenly the sound of many voices was all around them, echoing off the trees, stones, and streams.

A march host of Elves had come up silently; they were hastening towards the northern borders to guard against any attack from Moria; and they brought news, some which Haldir reported. The marauding orcs had been waylaid and almost destroyed; the remnant had fled westward towards the mountains, and were being pursued. A strange creature also had been seen, running with bent back and with hands near the ground, like a beast and yet not of beast-shape. It had eluded capture, and they had not shot it, not knowing whether it was good or ill, and it had vanished down the Silverlode southward.

"Also,' said Haldir, 'they bring me a message fro the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. You are all to walk free, even the dwarf Gimli. It seems that the Lady knows who and what is each member of your Company, and was not shocked that Lady Thennil was accompanied by a dwarf. New messages have come from Rivendell perhaps to appease their fears."

He removed the cloth from over Gimli's eyes first. "Your pardon!' he said, bowing low. 'Look on us now with friendly eyes! Look and be glad, for you are the first dwarf, and possibly the last, to behold the trees of the Naith of Lorien since Durin's Day!"

Thennil heard the inhales and stolen breaths from the other's in the company as she untied her own blindfold. The group stood still as they took in their surroundings. They were standing in an open space. To their left stood a great mound, covered with a sward of grass as green as Springtime in the Elder Days. Upon it, as a double crown, grew two circles of trees: the outer had bark like that of freshly fallen snow, and where leafless but beautiful in their appearance, shapely and naked; the inner circle were mallorn-trees of great height, towering above the outer ring, still arrayed in their golden cloaks. High amid the branches of the towering tree stood the centre of all their gleamed a white felt. At the feet of the trees, and all about the green hillsides the grass was studded with small golden flowers shaped like stars. Among them, nodding on slender stalks of bright emerald green were other flowers, white and palest blue; they glimmered and glistened as a mist amid the rich hue of the grass. Over all the sky was blue, and the sun of late afternoon glowed upon the hill and fast long green shadows beneath the tall trees.

"Behold!' whispered Thennil, gazing upon the glorious sight with renewed awe, 'We have come to Cerin Amroth. For this is the heart of the ancient realm as it was long ago, and here is the mound of Amroth, where in happier days his high house was built. Here ever bloom the winter flowers in the unfading grass: the yellow _elanor,_ and the pale _niphredil."_

"Here we will stay awhile, and come to the city of Galadhrim at dusk,' spoke Haldir, motioning to the others to rest and explore.

Frodo climbed down from the flet, and wandered down the hills of green slowly. There at the hill's foot he found Aragorn, standing still and silent as a tree; but in his hand was a small golden bloom of _elanor,_ and a light was in his eyes. He was wrapped in some fair memory: and Frodo looked at him and knew that he beheld things as they once had been in this same place. For the grim years, kind as they had been to him, were removed from the face of Aragorn, and he seemed clouded in white, a youth tall and fair; and he spoke words of Elvish tongue to whom Frodo could not see. _Thennil vanimelda, namarie!_ he said, and then he drew a deep breath, and returning out of his thought he looked at Frodo and smiled.

"Here is the heart of Elvendom on earth,' said he, 'and here my heart dwells ever, unless there be a light beyond the dark roads that we must tread, you and I. Come with me!"

And so, taking Frodo's hand in his, he left the hill of Cerin Amroth and came there but once more as a living man.

 **T** he sun had sunk low on the horizon, drifting behind the mountains, and the shadows steadily deepened in the woods. Their paths now went into thickets where the dusk had already gathered. Night came beneath the trees as they walked, and the Elves uncovered the silver lamps that they held by their sides. The light was like that of stars, white and bright.

Suddenly they came out into another open area and found themselves under a pale evening sky pricked and poked by a few early stars. There was a wide treeless space before them, running in a great circle and bending away on either hand. Beyond it was a deep fosse lost in soft shadow, but the downy grass upon its brink was green, as if it still glowed in memory of the sun that had gone. Upon the further side there rose to a great height a green wall encircling a green hill thronged with mallorn-trees taller than any that they had seen during their walk. Their height could not be guessed, but they stood up in the twilight like living towers. In their many-tiered branches and amid their ever-moving leaves countless lights were gleaming, green and gold and silver. Halide turned towards them, a look of joy upon his face.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon!' he said. 'Here is the city of the Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel the Lady of Lorien. But we cannot enter here, for the gates do not look northward. We must go round to the southern side, and the way is not short, for the city is great.'

The road they took was paved with white stone running on the outer brink of the fosse. Along this they went westward, with the city ever limbing up like a vine of ivy; and as the night deepened more lights sprang forth, until all the hill seemed afire with stars. They cam at last to a bridge, white as starlight, and crossing found the great gates of the city: they faced south-west, set between the ends of the encircling wall that here overlapped, and they were tall and strong, and hung with many lamps to greet their visitors.

Halide knocked and spoke, and the gates opened soundlessly after he spoke a few names; but of the guards no sign could be seen. Thennil shook her head beneath her hood, she had learned but a few of the tricks that her Grandmother's people had to teach about hiding in plain sight. The travelers passed within, and the gates shut behind them. They were in a deep lane between the ends of the wall, and passing quickly through it they entered the City of Trees. No folk could they see, nor hear any feet upon the paths; but there were many voices, about them, and in the air above. Far away up on the hill they could hear the sound of singing falling form on high like soft rain upon leaves.

They followed Haldir down many paths, twisting and turning beneath the trees till most of the Fellowship was lost. While Caras Galadhon was a city, it still retained much of it's forests appearances. There were flets, stairs, and balconies scattered through the treetops and boughs, but on the ground it looked much like a wood would. There were still small streams trickling along the paths, laughing as they fell down the stones; wild growing ferns and other plants carpeting the swells between the great roots of the mallorn-trees, a few smaller ones growing up, limbs stretched up towards the sky. Animals of the night could be heard softly as they went about their lives in harmony, the owl hooting, the mouse scratching for crumbs, and the fox prowling for his dinner.

They had followed many paths and climbed many stairs when they came to the high places and saw before them amid a wide loan a fountain shimmering in the moonlight. It was lit by silver lamps that swung from the boughs above, and it fell into a basin of silver from which a white stream spilled. Upon the south side of the lawn there stood the mightiest of all the trees; its great smooth bole gleamed like grey silk, and up it towered, until its first branches, far above, opened their huge limbs under shadowy clouds of leaves. Beside it a broad white staircase stood, and at its foot three Elves were seated. They sprang up as the travelers approached, and the group saw that they were tall, taller than Legolas and Haldir who were the tallest elves that they knew, and clad in grey mail, and from their shoulders hung long white cloaks.

"Here dwell Celebron and Galadriel,' spoke Haldir in reverence. 'It is their wish that I bring you to them. Come follow me."

Up the stairs they climbed, circling round and round the tree. The lights from the lamps hung upon the open ceiling above them lit the stairs in a soft glow, and Thennil marveled again at her Grandmother's ingenuousness. Up and up they walked, crossing bridges from tree to tree, the hobbits staying towards the middle as the only railing were the slender new limbs of the trees. Turning another corner, the group gasped in awe at the dwelling which they beheld. A flet had been built in many arches and curves, and what looked like crystal had been set into the openings. It glowed with more of the lamps, soft and welcoming. As they entered the chamber, lining up side by side before a set of stairs, the company looked around them in wonder as they waited.

The chamber was filled with a dim white light like that of the lamps, but it was a purer, cleaner, whiter, warmer light. The walls were branches of the great mallorn-tree that the house sat within and upon, and the ceiling towered high above them. Their attention is snatched up to the top of the stairs as a light shines down upon them.

There stood two elves; on one side was the male, tall with hair long and silver in color. The Lady next to him was one of the most beautiful that Gimli had ever seen, and he thought that she looked similar to someone he knew. She was just as tall as her companion, but her long wavy hair was that of the purest gold that the dwarf had ever seen. But no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.

Thennil bowed deeply before them as they descended the stairs, backs stiff and straight. Her Grandfather's eyes cut to Aragorn, and she cringed at his smoldering anger and sadness.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone.' she placed a comforting hand on Aragorn's shoulder where her Grandfather could not see, 'Nine there are here, yet ten there were that set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar,' his deep monotone voice rang out around them.

Thennil looks up from the ground, her hood pushed back so that her face was visible. Feeling eyes upon her, she looked to her Grandmother and saw the timeless eyes staring at her, asking her.

 _I am fine,_ she spoke through her mind, _only greatly grieved._

Her Grandmother's eyebrows went up minutely, and she nodded, turning to the others and speaking softly. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow."

Silence fell over the hall before Legolas spoke.

"He was taken by both Shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Thennil looked over the shoulder's of her grandparents as she reigned in her emotions, tears threatening to spill once again at Gandalf's demise.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose."

Her Grandmother looks over the faces of them all, seeing the sorrow and regret that lay within each of them. Sending out her powers, she softly comforts them. Coming to Gimli, she looks deep into his heart as he looked up at her, face stoic, but heart aching with guilt and grief.

"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dum fill your heart Gimli, son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." Her eyes wander over the fellowship once again, stopping on Boromir and staring at him in ernest for a few seconds before looking to her husband.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"Where hope would otherwise become hopelessness, it becomes faith,' she whispered, looking over at Aragorn, then to her grandmother.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all...Yet even when all seems lost, hope remains while the company is true,' her eyes strayed to tussled headed Sam, 'Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go no and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace."

Halide, turns from the lady, ready to lead the company back down the stairs for the dwelling prepared for them, Celeborn spoke.

" ** _Thennil, my child. Long has it been since you have visited our woods,_** ' he called to her, causing them all to stop as she broke away from the group, shedding her cloak.

 **"** **It has been a long journey, Grandfather,'** she said, bowing again before him.

Catching up her hand, he drew her into his arms, hugging her close. "I have missed you much, penneth. The Golden Wood is quiet without your laughter and songs."

She chuckled, looking up at her grandmother, 'I don't know how much everyone here likes my songs, which are really Bilbo's, such strange tunes compared to our own."

"I think it brings back much of our own youth,' her grandmother replied, running her fingers lovingly through the copper locks so much like her own.

The fellowship stood aghast, jaws on the floor, Gimli's most of all. Behind his beard Aragorn snorted. Turning, Thennil looked at her friends, tilting her head to the side as she realized that out of them all, Aragorn was the only one who knew of her relation to the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.

"Run along now, penneth,' her Grandmother's silvery laughter fluttered through the room as she looked at the curious expressions that her granddaughter's companions were giving her, 'Rest and refresh yourself, then we shall dine together."

"Tolathon, Haruni,' she stated, dancing after her companions slowly with a light laugh, though it was snuffed out by the sorrow in her heart.

 **Yeah! Another chapter published and done!**

 **So, the other day I was coming home from work with my sister, who works at the same place. And what do you know, my parents locked the screen door to our house! So, my sister gets me to break out my hairpins and we go around to the back door to our garage and she picks the lock. WITH HAIR PINS! We even got the doorknob for the door to our garage unlocked, but were unable to pick the dead-bolt. It was pretty fantastic, so beware, people can pick locks with hairpins if need be!**

 **Just thought that you guys would find that interesting/funny.**

 **Enjoy, and please review!**

 **Robin**


	40. Chapter 38

That night the Company slept upon the ground, much to the satisfaction of the hobbits and Gimli. The elves braught them to a dwelling spread with soft couches and curtains of the finest silk fluttering in the soft breeze. And for a little while the travelers talked of their day's journey, and of the Lord and Lady; for they had not yet the heart to look further back.

The elves had shown them where they could bathe, and provided them with fresh clothes to wear. The males of the group went first, the hobbits going together and bathing in the strangely warm stream; then Boromir went, coming back wearing his own clothes that he had packed; Gimli went down to the river, singing the whole time as he washed, but returned to them scowling after a while, smelling strongly of roses. Legolas had gone further down river from the rest and bathed at the same time as Aragorn, both coming back cleaner than they had been in months.

Being within a realm of elves, Thennil was thankful for all the products that were at her disposal to use to bath. Though she was a warrior, she was meticulous when it came to cleanliness. She knew that her grandmother would provide a dress made by her own hand, and dreaded what it might look like. Galadriel knew of her love for the mortal, and though her husband and Elrond did not approve of it, she supported her granddaughter through it all, and was always gifting things to attract the male, or setting her up in situations where they would be alone together. Her Grandmother was quite sneaky that way.

Walking through the woods, she found her way to the stream where many of the Elleth washed. No one would be there at this time of night with the stars shining up in the heavens. Slipping over the edge of a path, she brushed past the ferns before stopping before a small pool that bubbled up from the ground and spilled out into a stream that wound it's way around the Golden Wood. A small waterfall spilled over the rim into a larger pool. Stripping her sweaty clothes from her body, she left them in a neat pile before descending into the larger of the two pools.

Slipping under the dark water, she felt the dirt begin to loosen on her skin as she swam under the water. Coming to the surface she whipped her hair over her head, it landing with a slap on the water behind her as she swam to the shelf behind the waterfall. There, littered over the entire shelf were bottles and jars of every size and description. Paging through them all she went to the carved out shelf that her Grandmother placed all of her potions, oils, shampoos and face masks. Pulling her favorite ones out, Lavender and Rosemary for her hair, a mask for her face, along with a few bars of smelling soap, she began her cleaning routine. She scrubbed her skin as hard as she could with the sponges, sudsing her body up while letting her shampoo sit in her sweaty and dirt encrusted hair to break down the particles. Finally happy with how she felt, she swam through the water to the waterfall, and climbed up on the small protruding stones there to let the water rinse away all of her filth. Feeling as fresh as a spring flower, she dove down into the deep part of the pool, looking up to see how the star and moonlight filtered through the water.

Climbing out of the pool, she sat in the war air as she dried, looking up at the stars. After she had dried, she turned to look for the clothes that had been laid out for her along with a hair brush. Slipping into the dress, she shook her head at her grandmother's elaborate taste in clothing, wondering how long it had taken to make the dress. There were no sleeves per say, but the draping cape made up from those. It filtered around her like the waves of the sea, tossing in the breeze. She was rather aghast at the large exposer of her slender back, it was much more provocative than any dress she had worn to day, and she rolled her eyes at the suggestions it made from her grandmother. Taking the brush, she ran it through her hair, brushing out the tangles that remained before pulling some of it back from her face and pinning it there with a few flowers from the forest around her. Laying the brush upon the large stone like armor, she slipped through the woods like a spirit.

As she walked, the elves began to sing a lament for Gandalf. She stopped to listen as they sang, her heart aching as they raised their voices and wept. Trailing up a section of stairs, she to began to sing a lament for the fallen wizard, her soul rising up to meet the stars as she took a pitcher from beside one of the many fountains and filled it as she passed. Walking down the stairs, she entered the clearing in which the fellowship resided.

 _A Olórin i yáresse,_

 _Mentaner i Númenherui_

 _Tírieni Rómenóri_

 _Maiaron i Oiosaila,_

 _Manan elye etevanne_

 _Nórie i melanelye?_

 _Mithrandir, Mithrandir, A Randir Vithren_

 _ú-reniathach i amar galen,_

 _I reniad lín ne mór, nuithannen_

 _In gwidh ristennin, i far narchannen,_

 _I lach Anor ed ardhon gwannen_

 _Caled veleg, ethuiannen._

Her voice was crystal clear, clearer than even when she had sang with them before, as she expressed her grief, face striken. Her gown flowed around her as the fellowship crept out to hear the elves sing of their lost friend. From within the dwelling, Aragorn watched her as she descended the stairs, her fluttering in the small breeze as she looked up into the night sky. "What do they say about him?' asked Merry, responding to something Legolas had said.

"I have not the heart to tell you.' replied the Elf, looking back at the hobbit sorrowfully, 'For me the grief is still too near."

Sam rolled out his bedroll, helping pippin do his own. Looking up at Thennil as she set down the pitcher, he shook his head. "I bet they don't mention his fireworks. There should be a verse about them,' he muttered, thinking about the marvelous fireworks back at Bilbo's birthday party which seemed like long ago. _The finest rockets ever seen_ _They burst in stars of blue and green_ _Or after thunder, silver showers_ _Come falling like rain on flowers._ "Oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road,' he sighed.

Sitting beside the fountain, Frodo listened to the sound of the Elves singing, and had paid attention to the sorrowful song that Thennil had composed. He was seldom moved to make a song or rhyme like his uncle, though his memory was stored with many things that others had made before him. Looking up at the towering trees around him he began to murmur a song of his own.

 _When evening in the Shire was grey_

 _his footsteps on the Hill were heard;_

 _before the dawn he went away_

 _on journey long without a word._

 _From Wilderland to Western shore,_

 _from northern waste to souther hill,_

 _through dragon-lair and hidden door_

 _and darkling woods he walked at will._

 _A deadly sword, a healing hand,_

 _a back that bent beneath its load;_

 _a trumpet-voice, a burning brand;_

 _a weary pilgrim on the road._

 _He stood upon the bridge along_

 _and Fire and Shadow both defied;_

 _his staff was broken on the stone,_

 _in Khazad-dum his wisdom died._

Settling down next to his master, Sam smiled sadly at his friend. "Why, you'll be beating Mr. Bilbo next!"

"No, I'm afraid not,' said Frodo. 'But that is the best I can yet do."

"And beautiful it was, dear Frodo,' spoke Thennil from the edge of the stairs. 'Though the words are simple, it brings to mind all that our dear friend did, and sacrificed for our world. He shall always be remembered."

The hobbit shrugged, hugging himself tighter. Coming to sit down by the two, she placed a comforting had on their shoulders.

 **S** itting beneath the canopy of their dwelling, Aragorn watched as Thennil comforted the hobbits as they listened to the songs sung above them. She looked so very beautiful beneath the trees here in the Golden Wood, and he could see that she enjoyed being among her Grandmother's folk again. The hobbits peppered her with questions as they settled down to sleep beneath the stars, and chuckled when Pippin dozed off mid-question. Legolas and Thennil had disappeared together, going to sing with the other elves about Gandalf, lifting their grief up to the Valar. Counting the remaining heads, he realized that there was one missing.

Looking to the next tree, he saw the man sitting by himself, staring at the ground. Standing slowly from his seat, the ranger approached his companion.

"Take some rest. These borders are well protected,' he told the man, looking up into the trees, spotting a few elves moving about on the suspended walkways.

"I will find no rest here,' replied the man tiredly. He had dark circles under his eyes, and a haggard look upon his face. He inhaled slowly, looking at Aragorn's feet. 'I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. And she said to me,' he chucked sadly, ' "Even now, there is hope left." But I cannot see it...it is long since we had any hope to look to."

The man looked up at the ranger in despair, his eyes spoke of the horrors that he had seen, and the hope lost among his people, though he had tried to raise it. Aragorn slipped down next to the man on the root of the tree, trying to form words that would be of comfort to his friend. There are tears glistening in the man's eyes, and he is at a loss for words to truly encourage the man.

"My father is a noble man,' stated Boromir, 'but his rule is failing, and our...our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right...and I would do it, I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of a pearl and silver, its banners caught high on the morning breeze...have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of the silver trumpets?"

"I have seen the White City...long ago,' Aragorn replied, thinking of the fate that would await him there. Boromir watched as Aragorn becomes distant, remembering.

"One day, our paths will lead us there, and the tower guard will makeup the call 'the Lords of Gondor have returned." smiling.

Aragorn returned the smile, and the man looked away over the many paths that wound around the treed city. Aragorn's smile instantly drops, and he wonders what will come to pass if they did enter the White City.

 **T** he Fellowship spent many days in Lorien recuperating from their stressful trip through Moria. With each passing day, their grief grew a little less and a little less. The hobbits grew plump once again on the rich foods that the elves made, their jolliness coming back. Gimli suffered through the days, surrounded by elves that looked down on him, both literally and figuratively. He grumbled about the greens that they were provided with for every meal, muttering about roast boar and venison to no end when he thought no one could hear him. Legolas explored Lothlorien with the help of Thennil, having never been before and curious about all the wonders that the Woods held. She led him through the forests, to deep ravines, and up the tallest of trees. Thennil found herself playing hostess to all of her companions, showing them around. Frodo loved to go for long walks under the golden leaves, Merry and Pippin were content to explore the entire city to their hearts content, getting into mischief now and again. The Elves found their antics amusing, and did not reprimand them for their actions, it reminded them of the elflings that had once run and played under the trees long ago. There were few left.

 **T** hennil twirled along with the other dancers, her body moving like liquid as they danced in a circle. Their gowns were not of the norm among her kin, they were more drapey, flowy, looking like they walked and danced among a mist, or had wings. She twirled around, lifting her arms to the sky, letting the music lead her through the dance. She was not the only one dancing. Other elves had gathered to dance and sing, other's eating or drinking as they enjoyed the star and moonlight. Her companions sat among those who ate and drank, watching in fascination.

Boromir was entirely enraptured, watching them as they all pranced under the moonlight, twisting and twirling in a mass of limbs and voices. He and his people had tales of fairies and small elves dancing under the moonlight, but they were known for their tricks and pranks. He assumed that those who had come out of this wood must have told tails about the elves, distorting them. He told the hobbits some of their stories, about the shoemaker and his wife or two pixies and two wishes, which kept them entranced for about an hour.

Legolas was the only one out of the group that joined in the dancing, adding his own voice in to the songs as he heard ones that he kew. The elven folks feet never seemed to remain on the ground for more than a second as they continued to bend and twist in their dances. Back and forth they stepped, then twirling, then bending, then leaning backwards and rising with one leg in the air behind them. Standing up on their toes, then leaping before rolling into a small tumble, the males helping the women stand.

Twirling once more, Thennil noticed Aragorn sitting back behind a group of elves, watching. Smiling, joy making her face light up she left the circle, running over more elegantly than any mortal, and grabbed his arm. He raised his eyebrow, a question in his gaze.

"Come, dance with me!" she cried, tugging him to his feet.

"I'm sure I'll just slow everyone down,' he muttered, easing back into his seat slowly.

"Just one, please." she begged, her big sapphire eyes looked up at him, pleading.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then looked at her again. "Fine, but only one, I'm not very quick when it comes to dancing."

She chuckled, and dragged him into the circle. Laughing, they leapt, bound, twisted, turned, and bent as they danced in a circle, then separating out into pairs. Aragorn, slipped her hand into his and they danced back and forth. Spinning her around, he quickly did a jig to her left, then stepped back, did a jig on her right, then turned her around. Taking her hands again they joined the circle, linking hands with those around them, moving one way, then another.

Finally they all came to a stop, Aragorn panting softly, and bowed to one another, before he departed back to his seat. Joining the circle again she began the next dance, this one slower than the last, and winked at the ranger as she passed him. They hearts were lightened with the joy.

 **I** t was evening once again when Thennil walked among the ferns of the wood, a stream bubbling not far away as she wandered. Here she found peace, and breathed it in like a tonic for her sorrowful heart. She let her senses rest, knowing that there was no threat here that could harm her. Around the bend in the path, she came across her Grandmother. The older Elf-woman spoke no word, but nodded with her head for her to follow. Following along behind her Grandmother, she became anxious when they entered a hollow with a large basin. Halting, she dare not take a step further.

Her Grandmother continued down the flight of steps into the deep green hollow, through which ran murmuring the silver stream that had bubbled not far from her on the path. Walking around the basin, her Grandmother filled a pitcher with water from the stream, and held it in her hands as she turned to look at her Granddaughter. Stepping up to the basin, she waited.

"Long have you resisted looking in my mirror,' she said, pouring the glistening liquid into the basin, not even a drop being spilled.

"And long have I said that I do not want to see what the future holds,' she replied, taking a step back. 'I have no need for it. I have seen what some of the events will look like, hazy though they be."

"And yet, you wonder,' her Grandmother said. The air was still, and the dell was dark, her grandmother was a stark contrast, pale and bright against the deep green background.

She shook her head, "It is not what I wonder I will see, it is what I fear I will see."

Her Grandmother's emotionless faces saddened, 'What do you fear? Surely not death?"

"Nay, I fear the pain that will burn in my heart, that I will be alone,' she whispered.

"The mirror I can command to show some things, but there are others which it chooses to show unbidden, and those are often strange and more profitable than things which we wish to behold. You know that it shows things that were, and things that are, and things that may yet be. But which is it that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell."

"I have never looked, why should I look now?" she asked, looking over the still water in the basin.

"Perhaps to gain insight about what is ahead on your journey; perhaps to learn what you could have done to change something in the past. Or perhaps nothing at all."

She hesitated. What would be wrong in looking to see what problems might arise during their journey? It would not harm them, it would help them. Slowly she descended the first step, then the second, then the third, until she stood before the basin and her Grandmother. With apprehension, she looked up at the taller elf.

"You will cease to show me anything if I ask?' she said.

Her Grandmother nodded, and she leaned over the basin. At first there was nothing but the reflection of the stars, but these soon faded and went out. As if a dark veil had been cast over the sky, and another grey one withdrawn from the surface of the mirror, the Mirror went grey, and then clear as rain water. There was a sun shining, and the branches of trees were waving and tossing. Then a bench beneath an old tree upon which a pale haired elf was sitting, cradling an infant close to her bosom. Then it faded, and scenes flashed quickly before her mind, ones of her growing, learning new things, wielding her sword. Her first battle, freezing in the midst of the fighting. Then it skipped to the arrival of another child, this one dark haired and pale skinned, arriving on her father's doorstep with the woman, his mother. The babe changed quickly from an infant, to a child, to a youth, then to a man. Then before her she saw herself running, running, running across rolling green plains. A flash of lightening across a dark night sky. The wind and rain battering them; stone beneath her feet.

Then the scene changed once again, and she saw the halls of her father emptied and sacked. Her mother's statue torn down and shattered. The garden's were destroyed, and blood flowed like a fountain over the marble of her family's rooms. Her sister's pale, once red lips paler than the moon, eyes open, yet dead. Her brother's bodies scattered about the room, barely recognizable. Her father slumped over in his chair, a dagger sticking out of his back. Bodies littering the streets of Rivendell.

She was shocked at the images, and frantically tried to pull away from the Mirror, but it seemed to pull her in further. She struggled as a darkness engulfed her, it's inky blackness sticking to her skin as she gasped for breath. Then, stumbling out onto a field, she gazed over a great battle, one that had ended. Wandering among the bodies, she found those of a pale haired woman, laying over a white horse, clutching the hand of a man. Further away she saw Pippin running across the battleground. Then she saw herself in a white room surrounded by the wounded, using her powers to heal them.

The vision pulled her away once again, the landscapes rushing by her as she came to a great, black gate. Then again, a battlefield filled with soldiers fighting. Looking down she came face to face with Aragorn. Only he wasn't moving or breathing, and blood seeped from his side. His eyes were glazed over, empty. His hair a tangled mess. The look on his face seemed to say 'You could have saved me.'

Thennil ripped herself away from the Mirror, crying out in terror. "No! NO! It cannot be!"

She wept, tears coming to her eyes and spilling over the edge as she shuddered. Galadriel looked on with concern, but offered no comforting hand.

"I know what it is that you saw...for it is also in my mind. It is the future, penneth. It will come to pass if the rings fails to be thrown into Mount Doom."

Thennil did not answer, her heart shaking within her. She gazed up at her grandmother, fear for once evident upon her face. "Will he die?"

"Eventually, yes, but when I do not know,' Galadriel spoke.

Thennil looked at her finger, where once the ring of Barahir rested. "I cannot loose him."

"Nay, he is the one hope for the race of Men."

Thennil looked up from her bare finger, a new determination on her face, 'Then I will watch over him like I have always done. I will protect our hope,"

"You are already doing it,' whispered her Grandmother.

"Will you look again?" her grandmother asked.

Curious now, Thennil looked up at her Grandmother again. Why would she ask her a second time to look in the mirror? Hadn't it shown her her future already?

"Nay, I will not, I have seen enough to last me a life time over, and I sail."

Slipping away up the stairs, she disappeared into the gloom. She was shaken. As all of them had known, she also knew that there was a possible chance for her to die. Every time she went out into the world she knew that there was a possibility that she could be killed, only she had never had so many people to look after. The hobbits, while they had taken lessons from Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, and even Gimli were still not entirely able to defend themselves. They lacked the supervised experience that the others had, and so became a liability. Adding her visions into the mix with the deaths of her friends had been a wake-up call once again. She would need to be more alert in the future. She knew that if they were not successful that they would all end up dead. If they were, then Aragorn would undoubtably go on to become king if he so chose, and the other's would return to their homes to continue on as they had.

Leaning against a tree, she looked over the moonlit path, blinking as she watched a part of it change as a small child went bounding across it. She paused, intrigued by the small boy. He was laughing, dancing along the ground as he pranced up marble steps that had not been there before. She inhaled sharply as a man caught him up in his arms, twirling them around and around, before settling him onto his hip. The man paused in his movements, looking up at her, smiling and reaching out a hand. It was Aragorn. She made to walk forward, but another figure waddled across the path. This one was dressed in dropping robes which clung to her rounded form. Thennil was unable to see the woman's features, though her eyesight was superb. It was as if the woman was hidden from sight. But, walking forward Aragorn took the hand of the woman, smiling down at her as he bent to kiss her, placing a hand on her protruding belly.

Tears threatened Thennil's eyes, and she blinked them away along with the image.

 **H** itting the pillow for the umpteenth time, she rolled over on her cot. She groaned, though elves did not need much sleep, she wanted to be rested for their journey which would undoubtable start again in a few days. She had been plagued with dreams, not all unpleasant, but dreams that disturbed her nonetheless. Her mind played the visions she saw over and over again, making her wonder if they would be successful or not. If the ring would truly be destroyed. Rolling over again, she plucked her sword from the ground beneath her bed and snatched her wet stone from her pack. After testing the blade on her fingers lightly, she began to run the wet stone across the edge. She could hear Gimli snoring around the corner, and chuckled when she heard a pillow behind slapped into his face.

There was a roar, and then a thump as the dwarf must have fallen out of his bed. She heard giggling, and then scurrying feet across the grass as the duo ran around the corner, Gimli's protesting loudly.

"Quick, hide Merry!' cried Pippin, looking for a place to duck behind. The roots did not provide a good hiding spot, but both hobbits pause when they saw her bed. Nodding to one another, they dove beneath it, pulling the blanket down over the edge so that it covered their hiding spot. They chuckled, hushing each other as the dwarf stomped around the corner.

"Where are they?" he huffed, pushing the stray strands of his long red hair out of his face. He glared around the alcove searching for the two halflings.

"I thought I heard them run past,' she said nodding towards the next alcove over, a mischievous glint in her eye.

The dwarf nodded, and hurried on muttering about sleep and how they would get it. Once she heard him leave the canopy of their dwelling, she tapped the blanket.

"You can come out now, he's gone,' she said.

Merry and Pippin popped out from under her bed, and turned to run back to their own, 'So, you have a problem sleeping?"

They turned slowly around to look at her sheepishly. "Not exactly, but Gimli's snoring can get rather annoying."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Take that and multiply it by a few thousand and then you'll understand how I felt when I first slept beneath the mountain. It was awful!"

They giggled, and hurried away before Gimli could discover them.

 **Hope you all enjoy this one. I wasn't quite sure what to write about Lothlorien, so I pulled from a few places. The part about the dance is definitely my own idea though, I was watching different types of dance from around the world over the past few days and I thought it would be interesting to incorporate into the story.**

 **Robin**


	41. Chapter 39

One night they were summoned to the rooms of Galadriel and Celeborn once again. The Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words, and at length, Celeborn spoke of their departure.

"Now is the time,' he said, 'when those who wise to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to leave this land. Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, for a while. But whether they stay or go, none can be sure of peace. For we are come now to the edge of doom. Here those who wish may await the oncoming of the hour till either the ways of the world lie open again, or we summon them to the last need of Lorien. Then they may return to their own lands, or else go to the long home of those that fall in battle."

There was a heavy silence. 'They all resolve to go forward,' said Galadriel looking into each of their eyes.

"As for me,' said Boromir, 'my way home lies onward and not back."

"That is true,' said Celeborn, 'but is all this Company going with you to Minas Tirith?"

"We have not entirely decided our course,' said Aragorn. 'Beyond Lothlorien I do not entirely know what Gandalf intended to do. Indeed I do not think that even he had a clear purpose."

"Maybe not, yet when you leave this land you can no longer gorget the Great River. As some of you know well, it cannot be crossed by travelers with baggage between Lorien and Gondor, save by boat. And are not bridges of Osgiliath broken down and al landings held by the Enemy?

'On which side shall you journey? Which shore will you take?"

The Company remained quiet, looking to Aragorn. Boromir stared at the ranger, an proud tilt to his chin. He wanted them to take the road to Minas Tirith. The ring would undoubtably be safer within the walls of his city than on the darker side of the River.

"I see that you do not know yet what to do,' said the Elf Lord. 'It is not my part to choose for you; but I will help you as I may. There are some among you who can handle boats: Legolas, whose folk know the swift Forest River; and Boromir of Gondor; and Thennil who has travelled over the earth for many a year; and Aragorn the traveller."

"And one Hobbit!' cried Merry. 'Not all of us look on boats as wild horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine."

"That is well,' said Celeborn. 'Then I will furnish your Company with boats for your journey. They must be small and light, for if you go far by water, there are places where you will be forced to carry them. You will come to the rapids of Sarn Gebir, and maybe at last to the great falls of Rauros where the River thunders down from Nen Hithoel; and there are other perils. Boats may make your journey less toilsome for a while. Yet they will not give you counsel: in the end you must leave them and the River, and turn west - or east."

Aragorn thanked Celeborn many times. The generous gift of the boats comforted him very much, not least because there would now be no need to decide his course for some days, though Thennil would argue otherwise. The others, too, looked more hopeful. Whatever perils lay ahead, it seemed better to float down the broad tide of Anduin to meet them than to plod forward with bent backs and sore feet. Out of the company only Sam seemed doubtful: he at any rate still thought boats as bad as wild horses, or worse. Frodo was the next after him, the memory of his drowned parents.

"All will be prepared for you when you arrive at the haven before noon tomorrow,' her Grandfather stated, dismissing them for the night. He motioned for her to stay as her Grandmother bid the others farewell, leaving herself.

Motioning again with his hand, he ushered her up the stairs and higher into the tree. In a matter of minutes they had traversed the stairs up to the highest point in the city, the branches growing slender and rattling in the breeze. The stairwell opened up into a large balcony, the railings made up of twisted twigs and branches, the golden leaves twinkling in the night light. Her Grandfather came to a stop at the edge of the balcony, leaning on the railing as he looked out over his kingdom. She followed suit, leaning her elbows upon the railing, not being quite as tall as her Grandfather. There was no singing tonight, no voice was raised to praise the stars; a gentle wind blew through the tops of the trees, causing them to rustle and make music all their own.

"So you will continue,' he finally broke the silence.

"Yes."

"Even if it is your undoing?"

"Even if,' she said, trying to not become annoyed with her Grandfather. He was of much the same mind as her own father, doubtful of their success. "I do not know if we will succeed, but I will give it my all. I have lived a long life, what better way to finish it than in trying to save us all?"

He looked down at her sadly. "We were never meant to die. The creator made us this way."

"Yes, but that does not mean that death is not an option. Warriors go out every day and die. I am just lucky."

He scoffed, "What if it is not battle that kills you?"

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "You're Ada is not the only one that sees glimpses of the future like your Grandmother. He undoubtably already knows part of your fate,' he looked down at her, his face suddenly seeming ancient even with his smooth skin. 'You're life, your fate is connected to the Ring, Thennil. The longer it goes without being destroyed, the closer you come to dying, fading."

She blinked her long lashes, shocked. "I'm dying?"

"Slowly,' he said, taking her smaller hand in his.

She stiffened her neck, and straightened her shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Will I weaken?"

"I do not know,' he said. 'You are the only one in our history to be stricken with this...illness."

She nodded.

"Sail, Thennil,' he begged. 'Sail to the Undying Lands and it will save you."

She shook her head. "I cannot leave them."

"There is nothing for you hear,' he stated, voice as cold as ice, 'only death."

"I am tired of people telling me what is and isn't good for me, Grandfather,' she growled. 'I am grown, no longer a child. I have seen things that most of our kin only know of through books; I have lived the life of a wanderer; I am who I am because I chose this, even when those who wished to dissuade me persisted. I will not bend. Not this time."

He sighed, 'You will sail when this is through?"

She sighed herself, knowing the word that she would utter next would break his heart, "I cannot sail. The sea has never called to me, and I cannot leave even if I wanted,' she turned, taking his hands in hers. "I have chosen a mortal life, and I will not change my decision."

"No.' he whispered, gripping her hands tightly, closing his eyes. She could not remember having ever seen so much emotion on his face, the closest had been when her mother was taken centuries ago, but this had been even more so. Looking back up at her, she was shocked at the anger and sorrow in his eyes, alight like a living fire.

"It's that ranger, Aragorn the Dunedain,' he ground out.

"I love him,' she whispered.

He yanked her chin up, looking into her eyes to find the truth. Dropping his hand, he rested it on her shoulder. "You will tell him."

"I-

"You will tell him of your love, and soon."

"But-

"This is my desire. If I shall not have you with me, then I shall have you with the next best thing, the man you love." He glared down at her.

"But-but when should I tell him? Love and War do not mix, it is one of the most dangerous concoctions,' she gasped.

He traced her face tenderly, eyes becoming glassy, "You will know when the time is right."

She nodded.

"Now go! You have a long journey ahead of you,' he ordered, pushing her towards the door. She hurried through the entrance, feet making barely a whisper on the stairs as she descended. 'And may fate be merciful upon you."

 **F** or a long time they all debated what do do, or how best to attempt the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring; bu they came to no decision. It was plain that most of them desired to go first to Minas Tirith, and to escape at least for w while from the terror of the Enemy. They would have been willing to follow a leader over the River, and into the shadow of Mordor; but Frodo spoke no word, and Aragor was still divided in his mind. Thennil spoke only once, and said that they should take the river and cross the lake at it's end, continuing on through Emyn Muil, and through the marshland after that before coming to Mordor from the north.

Finally, after much discussion, the decision was left for Aragorn to make once he had contemplated all the options available. His own plan, while Gandalf remained with them, had been to go with Boromir, and with his sword help to deliver Gondor. But in Moria the burden of Gandalf had been laid on him; and he knew that he could not now forsake the Ring, if Frodo refused in the end to go with Boromir. And yet what help could he or any of the Company give Frodo, save to walk blindly with him into the darkness?

"I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty,' said Boromir; and after that he was silent for a while, sitting with his eyes fixed upon Frodo, as if he was trying to sway his thinking.

If was not long after the Frodo caught something strange in Boromir's glance, and he looked hard at him. Plainly Boromir's thought was different now than when he had spoken. He had heard him muttering softly to himself, and he was concerned by the difference of the statements. It had bee folly to throw away: what? The Ring of Power? He had said something like this at the Council, but then he had accepted the correction of Elrond. Frodo looked at Aragorn, but he seemed deep in his own thoughts and made no sign that he had heeded Boromir's words. It was Thennil that seemed to notice the slight change in the man, and she regarded him with caution, like a cornered beast that would strike out at any moment. And so their debate ended. Merry and Pippin were already asleep, and Sam was nodding off. The night was growing old.

 **I** n the morning, as they were beginning to dress and pack there things, Elves that could not speak their tongue came to them and brought them many gifts of food and clothing for the journey. Thennil thanked them, stashing the food in their near-empty satchels as they walked down to the river.

The mists of the morning lay heavily upon the woods and river, muffling the noises like a blanket. Bare-branched trees arched through the fog, and stray beams of light fell on the cold, blue waters as they ran along the ground. There was no breeze, and the air almost seemed to be heavy. Standing along the banks of the river, Thennil looked once again upon the home of her forefathers, taking in the last few glimpses of a place she would long remember, and the events that brought her to it.

One by one elves standing before each of them unwrapped and gave each of the company the clothes that they had brought. For each there had been a hood and cloak, made according to his or her size, of the light warm silken stuff that Galadrim wove. It was hard to say exactly what color they were: grey with the hue of twilight under the trees they seemed to be; and yet if they were moved, or set in another right, they were green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk-silver as water under the stars. Each cloak was fastened about their necks by those standing in front of them. They clasped them with a simple leaf-brooch, stepping back and bowing before them as they seemed to melt into the trees.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people,' her Grandfather said, looking them over in they new clothes.

'May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

"Are these magic cloaks?' whispered Pippin to Merry.

"I don't know what you mean by that, Pippin,' answered Thennil from behind him. 'They are fair garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this land. They are Elvish robes certainly, if that is what you mean. Leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lorien that we love; for they put the thoughts of all that we love into all that they make."

"Really? So they can protect me from stinging blades?"

"Nay,' she chuckled, 'they are not armor. But they should serve us well: they are light to wear, and warm enough or cool enough at need. And you will find them a great aid in keeping out of the sight of unfriendly eyes, whether you walk among stones or trees. We are indeed high in the favor of my Grandmother! For she herself and her maidens wove this stuff."

The hobbit nodded, rubbing the fabric between his short fingers.

 **O** n the banks of the Silverlode, at some distance from the city, and a long way from the meeting of the streams, there was a hither of white stones and white wood. By it were moored many boats and barges. Some where brightly painted, and sone with silver and gold and green, but most were either white or grey. Three small grey boats had been made ready, and one even smaller, almost like a canoe. The company packed their belongings into the boats along with the foot that they had been given to fill their empty packs.

Legolas was grabbing a few pack and putting them into his boat that he would share with Gimli; Merry and Pippin reclined in one of the boats near, and watch him. Pulling out one of the many packages he pulls a small flat bread. Smiling in wonder, he held it up to the two.

"Lemmas. Elvish way bread,' he took a bite, chewing slowly as she enjoyed the summery flavor. 'One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown Man."

He placed the remaining bread into the pack, tying it shut. Standing, he walks away nodding at Thennil who carried more packages for the boats, along with a long coil of rope.

"How many did you eat?' whispered Merry as she approached.

"Four.' Pippin said, belching.

Merry nodded, picking out crumbs from his teeth as he watched Thennil load the rope into the boats. To each boat she brought three coils of rope. Slender they looked to the hobbits, but strong, silken to the touch, and grey of hue like the elven-cloaks. Though they were light, it was a lot to carry all at once.

Sam stood near the boats also watching, and examine the ropes as she laid them in each boat neatly. "What are these?"

"Ropes indeed!" she laughed, 'Never travel far without a rope! And one that is long and strong and light. Such are these. They may be of help in many needs."

"You don't need to tell me that!' said Sam, shaking his head sadly. "I came without any, and I've been worried ever since. But I was wondering what these were made of, knowing a bit about rope-making."

"Really? Was that your trade?" she asked.

"Nay, it's in the family as you might say. My Great Granddad was the one that started me on it when I was but a lad,' replied the hobbit.

"Well,' she said, smiling, 'These ropes are made of _hithlain,_ but there is no time now to instruct you in the art of their making, or what small knowledge that I have of it. Had my Grandmother known that this craft delighted you, she could have had someone teach you much. But alas! unless you should at some time return, you must be content with this gift. May it serve us well."

 **T** he Company was arranged in this way before the boats: Aragorn, Frodo and Sam were in boat; Boromir, Merry, and Pippin in another; and in the third were Legolas and Gimli; Thennil would take the canoe like boat, which would be used for scouting the river ahead because it was so light and swift upon the water. In Gimli and Legolas' boat most of the goods had been packed. The boats were moved and steered with short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all was ready Aragorn led them on a trial up the Silverlode. The current was swift and they went forward slowly in the larger boats. Thennil sped ahead in her smaller boat, skimming over the top of the water like she was paddling on the breeze. Sam sat in the bough of Aragorn's vessel, clutching the sides, and looking back wistfully at the shore. The sunlight glittering on the water dazzled his eyes. As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue, the trees drew down to the river's brink. Here and there golden leaves tossed and floated on the rippling stream. The air was very bright and still, the sun having broken through the mist and fog, and there was silence except for the high distant song of the larks.

They turned sharply back around to return to the bank. Around the bend in the river, and there, sailing proudly down the stream towards them, they saw a swan of great size. The water rippled on either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck. Its beak shone like burnished gold, and its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wines were half lifted. A music came down the river as it drew nearer; and suddenly they perceived that it was a ship, wrought and carved with elven-skill in the likeness of a bird. In the midst of the vessel stood Galadriel, tall and white; a circlet of golden flowers was in her hair, and in her hand she held a harp, and she sang. Sad and sweet was the sound of her clear voice in the cool air:

 _I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold and leaves of gold there_

 _grew:_

 _Of wind I sand, a wind there came and in the branches blew._

 _Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea._

 _And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree._

 _Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,_

 _In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion._

 _There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching_

 _years,_

 _While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears._

 _O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;_

 _The Leaves are falling in the store,, the River flows away._

 _O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore_

 _And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor._

 _But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to_

 _me,_

 _What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?_

And so with her song they followed her back to the safety of Lorien's woods. Disembarking from their boats they stood before the Lord and Lady, waiting for them to speak. It was a long silence, as the Lady looked over each of them, assessing. Gimli tried not to fidget under her cool, yet radiant gaze, while Boromir merely stared at the ground by his feet. Turning to her handmaidens, she motioned them forward one by one.

"Here is the gift of Celeborn and Galadriel to the leader of your company,' she said to Aragorn, and she gave him a sheath that had been made to fit a sword. It was overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold, and on it were set in elven runes formed many gems, telling of the lineage of the sword it would one day hold.

'The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,' said she. 'But is there aught else that you desire of me at our parting? for darkness will flow between us, and it may be that we shall not meet again, unless it be far hence upon a road that has no returning."

To this Aragorn answered, casting a quick glance at Thennil as she spoke with the halflings: "Lady, you know all my desire, and long held in keeping the only treasure that I seek. Yet it is not yours to give me, even if you would; and only through this darkness do I think that I might come to it."

"Yet maybe this will lighten your heart,' said Galadriel; 'for it was left in my cate to be given to you, should you pass through this land.' Then she lifted from her lap a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring. 'This stone I gave to Celebrant, my daughter, who then gave it to her own daughter, and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!"

Then Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those who saw him wondered; for they had not marked before how tall of kingly he stood, and it seemed to them that many years of toil had fallen from his shoulders. Thennil saw the handsome man she had always known, only now he was beginning to take hold of the birthright that was his, becoming the beacon of hope for the race of Man. She also saw the kind man that had played with the Rohrrim children, or danced with the young maidens to make them smile, courteous to all.

And so it went on, each member of the fellowship receiving a gift from the Lord and lady. To Boromir was given a belt of the finest gold, gems set in it's fastening, twinkling in the morning light; to Merry and Pippin she gave small silver belts, each with a clasp wrought like a golden flower, like those of the elanor. Legolas was gifted a magnificent bow of the finest make, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with the golden strands of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows upon which the lady had spoken a blessing.

"For you little gardener and lover of trees,' she said to Sam, 'I have only two small gifts." She put into his hands a little box of plain grey wood, unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid. 'Here is set G for Galadriel,' she said; 'but also it may stand for garden in your tongue. In this box there is earth from my orchard, and such blessings as Galadriel has still to bestow is upon it. It will not keep you on your road, but here, Samwise Gamgee, is a rope of _hithlain."_

"Thank you, my lady,' said Sam, bowing while blushing red at the ears. He looked over at Merry and Pippin as they looked over their daggers.

He hesitated, "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"

Galadriel smiled, and Sam held onto his rope and box, embarrassed. She moved on to stand before Gimli, who stared at the ground in her presence.

"And what gift would a dwarf ask of the Elves?" she wondered.

Gimli shook his head quickly, glancing up at her every few seconds. "Nothing."

He looked up at her again. "Except to look upon the lady of the Galadhrim one last time for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth."

Her grandmother laughed, shaking her head in wonder at the dwarf. Gimli looked at the ground and scowls at his foolishness and turned away, but recovers and turns quickly back to her.

"Actually...There was one thing. No, no, I couldn't,' he muttered. 'It's quite impossible. Stupid to ask."

 **T** hennil stood at the end of the line, enjoying the last amount of time she would spend in the presence of her Grandfather and his knowledge. She had already gleaned much from him about their standing and the knowledge that the enemy had of them, but it was more of a gift to stand with him and speak of little things. She turned when she heard her Grandmother's soft footsteps upon the leaves. Looking up into her bright eyes, she found a great sadness there.

"I will return,' she whispered, taking her hand.

Her grandmother shook her head, tears gathered in her eyes. "You may, but you will not be the same."

"You have always agreed and supported my choice, do you doubt your support now?" she asked.

"No, it is because of your choice that I know you will not be the same,' replied her Grandmother. "And that is why I wish to give you this." she motioned forward one of her maiden's, who opened a large wooden box. Sitting upon the velvet was the most beautiful tiara that Thennil had ever seen. It was simple, yet unique. Taking it from the box, her grandmother placed it on her head, letting the crystal stone settle perfectly over her brow. The stone itself looked similar to that of Elessar, but smaller and brighter. On either side of the green stone was one of the purest white crystal that shone like starlight upon her forehead. There were different chains that hung from the metal of the tiara, draping in numerous loops over her ears.

"The stone has been set in the crown of Luthien, passed down through the ages, and coming into my care when I was a young woman,' she whispered, lifting her granddaughters chin with a slender finger, 'It is fit for a Queen."

"Then I shall strive to live up to it's lineage,' said Thennil, curtsying low before her Grandmother.

Galadriel nodded. **_I have no doubt that you will._**

 **Hope you all enjoy this chapter, it was fun writing it. For those of you who have messaged about the puppy dog, he is doing great! His name is Fynn, and boy is he cute!**

 **Thanks for reading, and please REVIEW!**

 **Robin**


	42. Chapter 40

Thennil paddled next to Legolas and Gimli's boat, listening as Legolas told of his gift, and it's make.

"What did the lady give you, Gimli?" he asked.

Gimli sighed, looking off into the blue dreamily. "I asked for a single strand of her golden hair, which surpassed all the gold found within the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I did not want to ask for such a gift, but she demanded that I name my desire."

'She spoke, her voice more beautiful than the golden harp of King Thorin, and said: "It is said that the skill of the Dwarves in their hands rather than in their tongues,' she said, 'yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?"

"What would you do with the gift, Gimli?" asked Legolas, knowing that only one other person had asked such a gift from the Lady.

"I told her that I would treasure it in memory of her words at our first meeting,' said the dwarf, sighing.

"So she gave you one?" Asked Thennil, cocking her head to one side.

"She gave me three."

Thennil's eyes widened like saucers. She hadn't thought that her Grandmother would give him such a gift, even a single strand of her silver-gold hair, but three? Feanor had asked for one from her over and over again long ago, begging for it from her. Her Grandmother, young though she was, saw the greed and evil buried deed within his heart. Feanor had gone on to create the three Silmarils that were the catalyst of the First Age. Knowing the gift and how sought after it had been by Feanor and a few others, she knew that Gimli would forever be known as Elf-friend to her people as the news of such a gift would spread quickly.

"Indeed, I have looked last upon that which is fair,' mumbled Gimli.

And so the Company went on their long way, down the wide running waters, borne ever southwards. Green woods stalked along either bank, and they could not see any glimpse of the lands behind. Slowly they gave way to a deeper brown terrain, the magical-ness of Lorien falling behind. The breeze died away and the River flowed without a sound. No voice of bird broke the silence, no fish jumped and splashed in the stream. The sun grew misty and the day old in what seemed like the matter of a few minutes as they paddled along, until it gleamed like a high white pearl in the pale blue sky. Then it faded into the West, and dusk came early, followed by a grey and starless night. Far into the dark quiet hours they floated on guiding their boats under the overhanging shadows of the western woods. The trees on that side grew tall and wide, passing by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted, thirsty roots through the mist down into the cold water and drinking deeply. It was dreary and cold.

Thennil constantly had to paddle as they went, whether to keep before the other boats, or to slow down so that they might catch up. Her canoe was swift, and skimmed across the water with the ease that the others did not have. Though their boats were of a make that made them good for travel, they were weighted down by their passengers. Latching themselves together, with Aragorn tying them all to the root of a tree to keep them in place, they all slowly fell asleep.

Soon they passed into the river Anduin, the land climbing slowly on each bank. In the next day or two, as they went on, borne steadily southwards, a feeling of insecurity grew within them, as if they were being watched by the trees. For a whole day they took to their paddles and hastened forward. The banks slid by as their leaf-shaped paddles flashed in and out of the water. Soon the River broadened and grew more shallow; long stony beaches lay upon the east, and there were gravel-shoals in the water, so that careful steering was needed. Thennil's boat being the lightest, with a flat-like bottom, was able to scout ahead, searching for the deeper route for the boats to take. The Brown Lands rose into bleak wolds, over which flowed a chill air from the East. On either side the meads had become rolling downs of withered grass amidst a land of fen and tussock. There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats. Each member of the Company was busy with his own thoughts.

Many times Thennil would sing softly, her voice floating slowly along like the water they paddled through, sad and melodious. She sung in both Elvish, Westron, and at times Khuzdul, which pleased Gimli to no end. He had not known that Thorin had given her leave to learn their secret language, and enjoyed singing with her when he felt like it. Aragorn and Boromir made requests for different songs, surprised that she knew so many.

The heart of Legolas was running under the stars of a summer night in some northern glade amid the beech-woods; Gimli was fingering gold in his mind, and wondering if it were fit to be wrought into the housing of the Lady's gift. Merry sat dozing in the middle of the boat ill at ease, for Boromir sat muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails, as if some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes seizing the paddle and driving the boat close behind Aragorn's. Pippin had begged to join Thennil in her own boat, or corical as he and Merry called it, and leaned against her chest, looking at the scenery fly past them. He climbed back and forth from bow to stern, careful not to rock the slender boat as much as he could. They were a little to the west of Boromir's boat when Pippin glanced back, catching a queer gleam in the mans eye as he peered forward gazing at Frodo. Sam had long ago made up his mind that, though boats, were maybe not as dangerous as he had been brought up to believe, they were far more uncomfortable than even he had imagined. He was more cramped and miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the grey water on either side of him or listen to Thennil when she sang any of her sad songs. Even when the paddles were in use they did not trust Sam with one.

As dusk drew down upon them on the fourth day, he was looking back over the bowed heads of Frodo and Aragorn and the following boats; he was drowsy and longed for camp and the feel of earth between his hairy toes again. Suddenly something caught his eye: at first he stared listlessly, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes; but when he looked again he could not see it any more.

 **T** hat night they camped on a small eyot close to the western bank. A fire had been laid, and the group huddled around it, drinking in it's warmth. Thennil stood watch as the other's went about laying out their bedrolls and snuggling down beneath their blankets. The Merry and Pippin slept close together, almost like a litter of puppies as they moved and snorted in their sleep. Gimli snorted loudly, a group of moths trapped within the air he breathed in and out. Their camp was hidden by the surrounding rocks, their sharp points reaching up to pierce the sky.

It was late in the night when she stirred from her spot, having dozed off some time after her watch. In the distance, she could her some splashing and sniffling. Rising from her seat, she crept around the boulders that hid them from view, and was surprised to see Aragorn and Boromir watching the River. They both were crouched low, their eyes watching a log float by, faster than the current.

"I had hoped we would lose him on the river,' murmured Aragorn, looking over Boromir's shoulder.

The log that they had been following with their eyes, drifted to the side of the river, bumping into the rocks before coming to a halt. Her enhanced hearing heard a hiss, then a faint cough before all fell silent.

"But he is too clever a waterman."

"And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous,' replied Boromir.

Thennil twisted when she heard footsteps in the camp, the clattering of plates as Sam moved around the fire. Carrying a plate filled with vittles, he set it down before Frodo, nodding to the plate. Frodo shook his head, and she guessed that he had heard at least a part of the conversation that she had also been eavesdropping on. Sam clambered over the stones to sit next to the halfling, reminding him of the promise that he had made to Gandalf back in their home.

"You can't help me, Sam. Not this time. Get some sleep,' he said, turning away from his friend and looking blankly at the sky above.

Sam nodded, sighing as he turned back to looking after the fire and eating his own meal. Thennil ached for the dear hobbit. He was so determined to help his friend, but Frodo did not want any of it. If only he would see that Sam was a comfort, a support to lean on, then maybe he wouldn't be so dreary and sad. Slipping deeper into the shadows behind Boromir and Aragorn, she listened to them.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength," the man of Gondor stated, pleading with Aragorn.

Aragorn shook his head, the greasy strands of his hair falling in his face, "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us."

Boromir scowled, glaring in the direction of Legolas sat, his eyes searching for Thennil as he grew angry, "You were quick enough to trust the Elves."

Aragorn didn't respond, looking through the members of the camp for Thennil. He always found comfort in her company, assurance. He was impatient to get away from the man and his demands masked as suggestions.

"Have you so little fair in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men,' he stated, looking ready to spit on Aragorn's boots in disgust, 'But you will not see that."

He grabbed Aragorn's tunic in his large hands, shaking him in frustration as he turned away, turning Aragorn to face him. Thennil did not like the look in her companions eye, and went to slip out of the shadows to help. "You are afraid!"

He shook Aragorn again, "All your life, you have hidden in the shadows."

Aragorn did not fight back, listening silently to the ravings of Boromir.

"Scared of who you are, of what you are," he released Aragorn's tunic from his hand, tossing the ranger away from him as Thennil put a hand to her dagger, ready to throw it if necessary.

Aragorn adjusted his tunic, brushing off imaginary dirt as he turned away from Boromir, leaving them man speechless.

"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city,' he stated evenly.

Boromir glared at him before turning away and marching back to the camp. Stepping from the shadows, she came to stand by Aragorn as he watched Gollum paddle his log along the river.

"Are you sure that I can't punch him in the face?' she whispered, half-joking.

"Yes."

"What if I break his nose, just a little?" she asked.

"I don't think that would be smart,' he finally chuckled, turning to look at her.

She laughed softly, elbowing him in the side. "Seriously, I would love to teach him a lesson, man though he may be. He is acting like a child when they want something, pestering until they get what they want."

Aragorn's chest rumbled as he kept his laughter in, looking at her from the side of his eye.

The mirth left her eyes as she continued to watch the creature maneuver it's log along the shallows. "The ring. It's affecting him."

"Aye, but isn't it affecting us all?" he asked.

She grimaced tiredly, "Yes, to an extent, but his mind is not as strong, he is bending beneath it's weight. He is going to eventually snap."

"We will just have to watch him,' said Aragorn.

She nodded, slipping her hand into his reassuringly as they turned their eyes to the sky, looking up into the stars.

 **I** t had been raining early that day, but it did not last long as they paddled along down the river. The river now flowed through deep ravines, the sun just hitting the bottom of the opposing wall of rock as the morning went on. The channel grew narrower as they went along, and the River grew swift. Now they were speeding along with little hope of stopping, the current dragging them along at an incredible speed. Pippin sat in the bow of Thennil's canoe, feeling the spray hit his face from the other boats as they went along down the river. Over them was a lane of blue sky, around them the shadows of the rocks above them, and before them the rising hills of Emyn Muil, in which no opening could be seen.

Thennil gazed before them, her eyes widening at the sight she beheld. Aragorn's craft was at the front of the group, and he pointed subtly for Frodo and Sam up at the two great pillars that rose out of the water. His eyes were glazed as he took in the sight of his forefathers. The two pillars were carved into the likenesses of some of the Kings of old; they loomed over the boats with power and majesty.

"Behold the Argonath, the Pillar of the Kings!' he said. "Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old...my kin."

The Fellowship watched and observed the stones in awe as the current swept them through past the great feet of the statues. Thennil heard Boromir gasp, and assumed that he had not come anywhere near this place on his journey to find Rivendell. Gimli was speechless as he looked over the statues, observing the craftsmanship and talent that had been used to create such a masterpiece out of the living stone. His fingers ached to touch and feel the stone, to learn the way that the people had fashion them into such marvelous things.

The chasm that they passed into was long and dark, and filled with the noise of the wind and rushing water and echoing stone. It bent somewhat towards the west so that at first all was dark ahead. But slowly, it bent back, and the steep cliff faces began to descend, and trees began to appear as they paddled further. Suddenly, they were no longer in the walled ravine, but the beginnings of a great lake. At one end there was a roaring waterfall, and the grey hills rose up around them. Crossing the lake, they moored the boats on the closer side.

 **E** veryone helped unload the many bedrolls and cooking supplies setting up camp quickly as the sun rose over them at high noon. Sam and Gimli started a fire together from the small twigs and driftwood that they found on the shore, the flames leaping up hungrily. Thennil helped the hobbits set up their beds, moving small pebbles and sticks from the ground so that they wouldn't be uncomfortable. She ruffled Pippin and Merry's hair playfully as they washed their hands in the water. Quirking an eyebrow, she leaned down and splashed a large amount of water onto Merry. The hobbit gasped, and looked up at her with his jaw hanging open as she smirked at him. Then narrowing his eyes, he scooped up a handful and tossed it at her. Dodging his flying water, she splashed at him again, laughing softly as Pippin added to the mix. They goofed around up and down the beach, splashing water here and there and bringing a small amount of joy to their gloomy journey.

"We cross the lake at night fall,' stated Aragorn, grabbing a pack from one of the boats, 'hide the boats and continue on foot...we approach Mordor from the North."

Gimli huffed, adjusting his seat on the ground, and raised an eyebrow at the ranger, "Oh, yes, just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks. And after that, it gets even better...a festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see!"

Thennil gave the dwarf a reproachful look.

"That is our road. I suggest that you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf," replied Aragorn cheekily. Thennil nearly spat out the swig of water she had taken, coughing quietly as she glared at the ranger, who smirked in her direction.

"Recover my.." gasped the dwarf indignantly.

Legolas hurried up to Aragorn, an urgent look in his eye, "We should leave now."

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness."

"It is not the easter shore that worries me,' stated the elf, looking over the forest around them. 'A shadow and a threat have been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it.' he turned to Thennil who sat near them. "You feel it also, creeping up in your mind."

Aragorn nodded at Legolas, and looked at her waiting for her reply. She sighed. "It is true. I had hoped that I was wrong though."

"Where's Frodo?" came the clear voice of Merry, followed by the sound of logs falling to the ground.

Snapping around with the others, Thennil looked over the camp, eyes scanning every crack and crevice. When she did not find him there, she searched the brush around the camp, thinking that he might have needed to relieve himself. He was not there. Her eyes fell on Boromir's shield, which lay discarded upon the ground, and her worry grew. Boromir was gone. She didn't stop to alert the others before she took off into the brush, following the tracks of the hobbits, and the larger ones left by Boromir's heavy footsteps. She ran through the woods, her mind screaming to find to man lest he harm Frodo like she thought he might. Over the fallen trees, stones, and fallen statues she ran in leaps and bounds, eyes scanning back and forth over the forest.

The chant: _Find him. Find him. Find him._ played over and over again in her mind like a mantra. Following the ancient trail up the hills of Ammon Hem she listened, straining her eye as she looked for Frodo. Rounding a bend in the path, she caught a glimpse of fabric in the green of the woods behind her, then jumped when a voice began shouting.

"I see your mind...you will take the Ring to Sauron. You will betray us! You go to your death and the death of us all! Curse you and all your halflings!"

Boromir was behind her, and she was sure that Frodo was somewhere out in these woods, he wouldn't have been shouting if he wasn't. Running along the path, she turned round and round, listening and watching. Off to her right she heard the leaves rustling, and the panting of breath. Turning she stepped out onto the path just as something bumped into her. She did not stumble, but whatever it was stumbled back and fell upon the ground. Thennil stopped herself from drawing her sword as she sensed the pureness of the fea that lay in the leaves before her.

"Go,' she whispered, 'I will make sure that he does not follow."

Whatever it was did not respond to her words, but hurried past her, the leaves moving strangely as he swept past.

"Be careful, Frodo,' she told the shadow as it hurried up the trail.

She waited for Boromir, but he did not follow. She cannot hear him, but she senses evil approaching like the dark clouds of a thunder storm. Withdrawing her sword, she waits, listening. There, the sound of many feet upon the leaves. Running through the woods, she listens for any sign of her friends. Soon, out of the shadows comes orcs, a pale hand upon their head. Rushing towards them, she lets out a loud battle cry.

"Death to the Dark!"

Twisting and turning, ducking and weaving, she swings her sword at them, taking them down one by one. She stabbed at one, then swung at another, ducking the flying spear, she plunges her sword down the throat of on of the beasts. Her heart now pounding, she looked up around her. _This was is too small of a group to be traveling by themselves,_ she thought, brushing her blade against the leaves of the ground to clean it. _There must be more._

Shouting greeted her ears as she ran through the woods, the trees flashing by as she came upon a few stragglers. It took her a few minutes to take them out, but before she knew it she was off running through the trees again.

"Hey! Hey you!' she stopped looking around for the voice, 'Over here!"

"This way!" cried a voice she knew to be Pippin's.

Then she heard their feet pattering towards her and the shouts of more orcs behind. _So that's where they all were._

The hobbits came into view not a moment afterwards, running for their lives. Stepping out from behind the tree, she strung her bow and began to shoot at the oncoming orcs. The hobbits kept shouting at the beasts, encouraging them as they ran. They continued to antagonize the orcs, running, then slowing down, then running ahead again.

"It's working!"

"Yes, now come on!"

The two hurried towards her position, their faces showing relief as they saw her shooting.

"Merry, Pippin,' she cried, dodging an arrow from the enemy, 'I'll hold them off, run!"

The two nodded, booking it over the leaves as they tried to find a hiding spot that would accommodate them both. She ignored them, shooting at their pursuers as she shuffled backwards. Soon the orcs drew too close for her to be able to shoot at, and she went back to her sword, parrying, slashing, and stabbing. On every side she was accosted as she moved towards the hobbits, fighting off the beasts. Minutes passed that felt like years as the orcs continued to swarm them, never-ending. She was separated from the hobbits, and Boromir who had come to their rescue when she could not, fighting for her life.

The horn of Gondor sounded upon Boromir's lips as he blew, calling for aid.

Kicking the orc she had stabbed, she leapt over the others in a mighty jump, landing on the ground like a cat, and took off towards the noise. She fought towards the man, the ringing of metal loud in the clearing as she ran up the broken stairs. Boromir guarded the hobbits, blowing the horn when he could as he had to stop and block the oncoming orcs. She was still to far away.

Merry and Pippin threw stones as fast as they could, abandoning their swords as they pelted the orcs. She tackled one orc, slitting it's throat quickly as she rolled under the swing of a taller one, barely missing having her arm chopped off with it's crude weapon. It stabbed down, pinning her clothes to the ground as she squirmed beneath it. She kicked up with her foot, meeting it's hard skin with a crack. She winced, but the kick seemed to have done more damage to the orc than herself as it crumbled to the ground. After a second to breath she grabbed the weapon and yanked it out of the ground, rising swiftly to her feet as she took off the head of another orc. She grimaced. She stepped around a toppled statue, turning her back to stabbed at the orc that met her vision.

Then something connected with the back of her head, and something wet and sticky hit her face. Stunned she dropped her blade before collapsing to the ground. All around her she could hear the orcs screaming and yelling grow farther away, or was it just getting quieter? She didn't know, it felt like she was in a fog, walking through sludge as she stared up at the canopy above her. Her mind screamed for her to get up, to shake off the dizziness, but her body rebelled as she tried to blink. Time passed slowly, each minute seemed like an hour, and in turn that felt like a century as she struggled to regain her mobility. She could hear fighting, but it seemed one-sided, the gasps and gagging of the other party long and pained. Then the screams of higher voices, full of anger and despair.

She tried to let her power flow, but it seemed to be dammed behind something, pushing at it with only a few wisps escaping through her fingertips into the air around her. She yelled and cried in her mind, pounding against her body as she heard the fighting resume, only this time it was clearer in her ears than before. And yet she still could not move. Time passed quickly after she heard the fighting start, and she became more aware of herself, though her limbs still did not want to comply to her orders.

 _Someone! Please! I'm over here!_ she cried through her fea, praying that Aragorn or even Gimli would hear her in their minds.

Someone stumbled to a stop beside her, and a face came into her vision. A bearded face. Gimli.

"Lassie! What happened to ya?" he asked, whispering quietly. The enemy must still be near.

She tried to move her lips, and her eyes squinted, then blinked. She curled her fingers slowly, and felt the feeling return fully to her toes. She wiggled on the ground as the dwarf helped her shakily to her feet. He looked her up and down, surveying her for injuries.

"Ahh! Lass, you've knocked your noggin' haven't ye?" he asked, handing her a very old looking piece of cloth. She nodded, placing it tentatively against her head, wincing as it connected with the cut.

"Where are the halflings?" she gasped, walking in a crooked line around the rubble as Legolas joined them.

"I'm not su-

The trio stopped, frozen at the scene they beheld.

Boromir lay against a great tree, his body littered with black arrows, arrows that Thennil recognized. His sword was held loosely in his hand, but it was broken near the hit. His horn lay at his side, cloven in two. Many orcs lay slain about him, piled at his feet. Aragorn knelt over him, and was speaking to him earnestly.

"I do not know what strength is in my blood,' cried Aragorn, 'but I swear to you...I will not let the White City fall, nor your people fail..."

Boromir gasped something out to the Ranger, looking up at him with fading eyes. Then his voice grew loud enough to hear as he gasped for breath, "I would have followed you my brother...my captain...my King."

He shuddered, and was still.

They approach Aragorn as he sat over their fallen comrade. Legolas was the one who spoke, his voice void of emotion as he gazed upon the dead man.

"Alas, we have hunted and slain many Orcs in the woods, but we should have been of more use here. We came when we heard the horn-but it was too late. Rest in peace, Boromir, son of Denethor."

Thennil bowed her head, looking down at the ground by Boromir's feet. "He redeemed himself in his last hour."

 _I wish I could have saved him,_ she thought, but knew in her heart that she would have only been able to heal his wounds to a point. He would have been to far gone for her to have saved him completely. Gimli turned to her, knowing that she held powers like that of his Queen.

"Nay, Gimli, I could not have done anything for him, I have-had only known him for a short time,' she whispered.

He nodded, his grief masked behind his beard.

"They will look for his coming from the White tower...but he will not return."

 **Hope you all enjoy! I really hate how Boromir died, but I didn't want to deviate from Tolkien's original story line because it really messes with the rest of the books. Some characters are created to die, and unfortunately Boromir was one of them.**

 **Review please!**

 **Robin**


	43. Chapter 41

"Come,' said Thennil, 'we must tend to the fallen. We cannot leave him lying like carrion among these foul Orcs."

"But we must be swift,' said Gimli. 'He would not wish us to linger."

"We have not the time or the tools to bury our comrade fitly, or to raise a mound over him. A cairn we might build."

Aragorn nodded, "The labour would be hard and long: there are no stones that we could use nearer the waterside. We will lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his vanquished foes. We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to Anduin. The Rover of Gondor will take care atlas that no evil creature dishonors his bones."

They quickly searched the bodies of the Orcs, gathering their swords and cloven helms and shields into a heap. There among the bodies were four goblin-soldiers of greater stature, swart, slant-eyed, with thick legs and large hands. They were armed with short broad bladed swords, now with the curved scimitars usual with Orcs; and they had bows of yew, in length and shape like the bows of Men. Upon their shields they bore a small white hand in the centre of a black field; on the front of their iron helms was set an S-rune, wrought of some white metal.

Thennil felt she knew where the Orcs had come from, but said nothing as they carried their comrade to the river. Gimli had used his axe to cut several branches to lash together with their bowstrings. They laid their cloaks upon the frame, an gently set Boromir upon the bier. Lifting him up on their shoulders, they walked to the shore. It was a short way, yet they found it no easy task, for Boromir was a man both tall and strong.

Taking one of her best cloaks, along with many of the packs that they would not be needing now as it would weigh them down, Thennil made a bed for Boromir in one of the boats. She folded one of her extra tunics that would have been better suited for the council of her Father, she laid it beneath his head. Using her fingers she combed his long hair and arrayed it upon his broad shoulders. The golden belt that her Grandmother had gifted him gleamed like the sun around his waist. His helm they set beside him, and across his lap they laid the cloven horn and the hilt and shards of his sword; beneath his feet they put the swords of his enemies.

The four of them pushed the boat into the current, watching silently as it floated to the waterfall. Slowly the boat departed, waning in the dark spot against the golden light; and suddenly vanished. Raucous roared on unchanging. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in the after-days it was long said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him through Osgiliath, and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars.

Watching the foaming of the river, Thennil let a few tears fall upon her face. Aragorn stepped up next to her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, tears of his own leaking out of his eyes.

"They will look for his coming at the White Tower,' he said, 'but he will not return from the mountain or from sea."

Then slowly they began to sing, as if the song had already been written in their minds, their voices melding together, and a sadder song had not been sung at the falls in over an Age:

 _Through_ _Rohan_ _over fen and field where the long grass grows  
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.  
_ _'_ _What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?  
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?  
_ _'_ _I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey,  
I saw him walk in empty lands until he passed away  
Into the shadows of the North, I saw him then no more.  
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of __Denethor_ _,  
_ _'_ _O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,  
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.'_

Then Legolas sang, Thennil harmonizing as her voice dipped and rose:

 _From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones,  
_ _The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.  
_ _'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?  
_ _Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.  
_ _'Ask not of me where he doth dwell – so many bones there lie,  
_ _On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky,  
_ _So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.  
_ _Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'  
_ _'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward roads runs south,  
_ _But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth'.  
_

Then all three sang, their voices flowing together like water:

 _From the Gate of the Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls,  
_ _And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.  
_ _'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?  
_ _What news of Boromir the bold? For he is long away.'  
_ _'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought,  
_ _His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought.  
_ _His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest,  
_ _And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.  
_ _'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze,  
_ _To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'_

So they ended. They turned away from the falls, not able to bare looking at that which took their friend.

"You left the East Wind to me,' said Gimli, 'but I will not say anything of it."

"That is as it should be,' said Aragorn. 'In Minas Tirith they endure the East Wind, but they do not ask it for tidings."

"If we are quick, we will catch Frodo and Sam by nightfall!" cried Legolas as he pushed another boat into the water.

Aragorn looked at the further shore, seeing the small canoe that Frodo and Sam had left on the bank, walking up into the brush he sees the two, laden with heavy packs. It is Thennil's turn to comfort him as she leans her head on his shoulder.

"You mean not to follow them...?" asked the Elf.

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands."

"Then it has all been in vain,' sighed Gimli, 'the Fellowship has failed."

"Nay, Gimli,' she said, kneeling down before him in an instant, 'Not if we hold true to each other.' she looked up at the other's.

"We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while we have strength left in our bodies."

Snagging her pack, which was by far the lightest of those remaining, she straps on her extra knives as Aragorn snatches up his own hunting knife and straps it to his leg. She rummages through the other packs, finding the lembas bread that had been left.

 _Thank you Thorin for this shield,_ she thought, looking up at the heavens. It was made of Mithril, lighter than a feather, but stronger than any other metal.

Aragorn turned to look at them, a steely light in his eyes, 'We travel light. Let's hunt some Orc!"

"Yes! Ha!"

Like a deer he sprang away. Through the trees he sped. On and on he led them, calling on Thennil when the trail seemed to disappear, but tireless and swift, now that his mind was made up. The woods about the lake they left behind. Long slopes they climbed, dark, hard-edged against the sky already red with sunset. Dusk came. They passed away, grey shadows in a stony land.

The dusk deepened and mist lay behind them among the trees, and brooded on the pale margins of the Anduin, but the sky was clear. Stars came out to guide them, and the waxing moon was riding in the West, and the shadows of the rocks were black. When they had exited the woods they had come to stony hills, and their pace slowed, for the trail was no longer easy to follow in the dark. They were in the highlands of the Emyn Muil which ran from North to South in two long tumbled ridges. The western side of each ridge were steep and difficult, but the eastward slopes were gentler, furrowed with many gullies and narrow ravines. All night the three companions scrambled and ran through this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first and tallest ridge, and down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley on the other side.

Aragorn pushed them far and fast, running at the head of the group. Thennil, who had become accustom to long journeys and the harsh climate that they had to traverse took it in a breeze. Her legs had cramped a little within the first few hours of running from al the sitting that they had done in the boats, and the muscles yelled at her for taxing them without giving them a stretch. As the hours drew on there was a weariness that swept through her, but she resisted.

 **A** s the night passed into day and day into night, she really could not tell where they were, though she was sure that Aragorn knew. They had rested little, an hour here or an hour there when Gimli could no longer keep up with the rest of them. It was in those few hours that she let Aragorn near.

Her mind would not let her forget the frantic screams and cries of the hobbits as the orcs had rushed past. Their frightened faces as they ran from the orcs, hiding behind her. She remembered Pippin sitting beside her every night asking questions, begging for stories, being his adorable little self. She remembered Merry, his bright eyes and curious sense of humor. It tortured her, forcing her to reliving the moment when they were taken over and over again. Their scrabbling hands against their captors backs; their squirming and thrashing in the orcs arms.

Then her mind would bring up Boromir's bloodied body, his pale face. She ranted at herself over how she had looked down on him for falling under the Rings influence, when she herself had struggled with it because of her half-elven blood. the Ring had called to her too, but it's hold upon her had been weak, and she had resisted it by blocking it from her mind. She remembered how he had fought it, surcoming to it for mere minutes at a time, but then taking hold of his mind and pushing it away. He hadn't been weak, it had just worn down on him till he could not handle it any longer. If only she had seen that instead of judging him; if only she had been more aware of her surroundings, she could have saved him; if only she had loved him enough to heal him; if only.

It was when they were sitting and resting for an hour at a time that Aragorn approached her. Sitting down next to her, he let her lean her head on his much taller shoulder.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"How are you, really?"

"Fine."

"I know you, and I know how you handle things,' he said, pulling back and taking her chin in his hand to look her in the eye. 'You bottle it all up until it bursts open."

She yanked her chin out of his grip, swiveling to gaze out over the rocks away from him.

"Don't shut me out, Thennil!" he whispered, slipping his arm around her shoulder, and pulling her to his chest.

"I can't help it,' she said. 'My emotions are so much deeper, so much stronger than yours are, I'm afraid to let them out because I fear that they would overtake me, and in turn effect you."

He stroked her back, rubbing circles with his thumbs, "Don't ever be afraid to show your emotions, Thennil. I would rather see you do that then know that you are keeping things from me."

She sighed, and nodded, closing her eyes as she leaned against him.

"I care for you,' he whispered softly as they drifted off.

They had sat together, her resting her head on his shoulder, and he leaning his upon the top of her head. They did not speak often after that, words were not needed. Though she could not have told anyone when she felt the change, knew that it had happened. They began to depend upon one another, look for assurance and support from each other. When he lagged, she would run ahead and scout, taking the weight off of his shoulders; when she tired he would take the head, searching the ground. She knew that he had feelings for her, but given their situation, she did not think that it was the time for such feelings. They were heading into what could become a battle, now was not the time for love.

 **A** s they had run through the night, they came upon a curious sight. What they had at first taken for boulders had turned out to be the five dead bodies of orcs. From the insignia upon their helms and the white hand on their shields or heads they knew that these few were not like the great Orcs that had the white hand upon their faces and shields.. The orcs had been hewn to pieces with cruel strokes, and two had been beheaded. The ground was wet with their dark black blood.

"Here is another riddle!' said Gimli. 'But it needs the light of day, and for that we cannot wait."

"Yet however you read it, it seems not unhopeful,' said Legolas, looking over the bodies. 'Enemies of the Orcs are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell in these hills?"

"No,' said Aragorn, moving one of the bodies with his boot. 'The Rohirrim seldom come this far out here, and is far from Minas Tirith. It might be that some company of Men were hunting here for reasons we do not know. Yet I think not."

Thennil prodded the bodies, touching them with her hand, and feeling for any trace of warmth. "I think that the enemy brought his own enemy with him,' she said. 'These are Northern Orcs from far away. Among the slain are none of the great Orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I guess; it is no uncommon things with the beasts. Maybe there was some dispute about the road."

"Or about the captives,' said Gimli. 'Let us hope that they, too, did not meet their end here."

She nodded, and began to search the ground with Aragorn in a large circle, but no other traces of the fight could be found in the dark. They went on. Already the eastern sky was turning pale; the stars fading, and a grey light slowly growing on the horizon. Running, running, running. Over hill and dale, down deep ravines, and rocky terrain. It was before noon that morning when they came to the western edge of Emyn Muil. Trailing behind with Legolas and Gimli, Thennil handed a small piece of lembas bread to eat before running off into the hills again. Gimli huffed as she and Legolas hurried forward, hearing Aragorn shouting.

"They have caught our scent. Hurry!" he cried, taking off over the rocks again.

"Come on, Gimli!" she called back to the dwarf, leaping over the rocks like a goat.

"Hurry!" teased Legolas, flying over the stones after her.

Gimli struggled up the hill after them, grumbling and groaning as he went. Stopping for a breather, he huffed. "Three days and nights pursuit. Little food. Almost no rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock and dead bodies can tell."

Hefting his axe, he ran after them, scaling the boulders with his short legs as they crossed out of the boundaries of Emyn Muil. They continued to run, coming across a deep ravine where a stream ran along the valley, winding it's way around the hills. Along the cliff ledges they ran, glancing down at the ground far below them as they hurried over rocks and heather.

Stumbling to a stop, Aragorn bent low and snatched something from the matted grass and dirt. There were many footprints here, scattered about the ground in no logical patter. The pack must have stopped to rest for a little while.

"Praise be!' she cried, taking the brooch from Aragorn's hand, 'They are smarter than even I judged."

"Aye, not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall,' he stated, looking at the ground.

"They may yet be alive."

Aragorn studied the ground for a few more seconds before he took off running again. "Less than a day ahead of us. Come!"

Behind them Thennil hears the clattering of small stones, then a grunt. Looking over her shoulder, she chuckles at the sight. Gimli had tumbled over the rocks, rolling to the ground, groaning.

"Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!" cried the male Elf.

The dwarf panted as he stood, leaning on his axe for support. "I am wasted on cross-country. We dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances."

She laughed, running back to him and helping him along, "I'm sure, though I do remember that time when you ran from the gates of Erebor to the Long Lake on a dare from my nieces and nephews, only to be beaten by Torne."

"That was a longer distance, lass,' panted the dwarf as he picked up his pace.

"Really? If I remember right it was only a few miles."

He rolled his eyes as they ran up another hill, coming to a stop behind Aragorn. Blinking, Thennil was amazed at how little time it had taken for the landscape to change here. There had been much erosion from the rain, making more stones appear on the plains. The grass blew in the breeze, looking like the waves on the sea. It swelled and rolled up to the very foot of Emyn Muil. The falling stream vanished into a deep growth of cresses and water-plants, and they could hear it tinkling away in green tunnels, down long gentle slopes towards the fens of Entwash Vale far away. The seemed to have left the winter long behind them, clinging to the rocky slopes of Emyn Muil. Here the air was softer, warmer, and faintly scented by the grasses, as if spring was already stirring and the sap was flowing again in her and leaf. Legolas too a deep breath, like one that drinks a great draught after long thirst in barren places.

"Rohan.' stated Aragorn. 'Home of the Horse-lords. There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us."

Looking out on the horizon, Thennil searched for any movement. "There! Legolas, there is something moving on the plain!"

"What do your Elf-eyes see?" asked Aragorn, straining to see anything upon the plains.

"The Uruks turn northeast. They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!" cried Legolas.

"Saruman,' Thennil muttered, narrowing her eyes.

 **T** he sun was rising as they crossed over the fields in single file. They ran like hounds on a strong scent, and an eager light was in their eyes. Nearly due west the broad swath of the marching Orcs tramped its ugly slot; the sweet grass of Rohan bruised and blackened as they passed. All night they had tracked their enemies, going north-west without break or turn. Looking at the sun, Thennil shuddered. Though she did not believe in all the tales and foretelling, this was one she had witnessed many times before. Legolas turned to her, his eyes filled with dread.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night."

She nodded, crossing from one rocky outcrop to the other following Aragorn. The grass was long and course beneath her boots, and her hood did little to block the light of the sun as they walked. It was then that she paused, feeling the ground vibrate beneath her toes, the stones in the grass rattling. On the breeze a harsh whinny was heard. Panic erupted in her chest and she sprinted after Aragorn into the cover of the rocks. Plastering herself to one of them, she looked through the gap to see row upon row of horses gallop by, the white horse of Rohan flickering in the wind. Aragorn looked at her, then back out at the riders.

"Don't you dare,' she hissed. They had no clue if these men were friend or foe. Ignoring her, he crept out of their hiding place, standing up an hailing the riders.

"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

Following after him with a shake of her hooded head, she wanted to give him a good slap to the side of his head. You don't just hail people that you know nothing about, even if you knew them a long time ago. The head horseman signaled the pack with his spear. Even after having observed the skill of the riders in the past, she was amazed by the speed and control of the Rohirrim as they flew by them, checking their steeds, and wheeling around, charging at the four of them.

The horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks or left free to fly in the wind. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall and long limbed; their hair, ranging from flaxen-pale to a golden red, flowed under their light helms, and streamed loosely or in braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash, and their shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished shirts of mail hung down upon their knees.

Without a word or cry, the riders halted, circling around them tightly, leaving them no room to run if there was a fight; they pointed their spears threateningly at them, the metal tips gleaming in the morning light. Riding out from amid the men, came a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a white horsetail flowed. He advanced until the point of his spear was within a foot of Aragorn's breast. Aragorn did not stir, though Thennil's heart pounded with worry.

"What business does an Elf, a Man, a dwarf, and a hooded stranger have in the Riddlemark? Speak quickly!" stated the man.

Gimli stood tall, or as tall as a dwarf can stand, and stared defiantly up at the Rider. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine."

The man handed his spear to another rider, and dismounted his horse. Gimli nodded arrogantly at the tall man towering over him, his hands resting on his axe. Thennil slipped a hand onto the dwarf's shoulder, holding him back as the man approached.

"I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In a lightning fast movement, Legolas knocked an arrow and pointed it at the man. "You would die before your stroke fell."

The man glared at them as all the spears were trained on the Elf. Thennil rolled her eyes at the males, why did they all have to play 'I'm the Alpha here'.

Stepping forward, she pushed Legolas' bow down as Aragorn stepped forward to speak with the man.

"I am called Strider,' Aragorn stated, 'I come out of the North. I am hunting Orcs."

"At first I thought you were,' said the leader. "but now I see that it is not so. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many.' he looked over Aragorn curiously. 'But there is something strange about you, Strider."

He bent his bright eyes again upon the Ranger, looking him up and down with his head cocked to one side. "That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?"

Aragorn shook his head, "No. Only two of us are Elves, Legolas of the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood, and Trewrun of Imladris. But we have passed through Lothlorien, and the gifts and favor of the Lady go with us. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, or Erebor."

"Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!' said he. 'Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favor, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe." he looked over them, glaring and fingering his sword.

"Perhaps my name did not ring a bell, horse-master,' she spoke up, pushing back her hood, 'I had hoped that the people of Rohan remembered their Elf-friend of old, but perhaps my name has been forgotten."

The riders froze, captured by the beauty before them. They had never seen a person so pure, so ethereal in appearance, even dressed in dusty clothes and arrayed in more weapons than they had ever seen. The leader looked upon her, and his eyes grew wide, taking in her bright golden-copper hair, her blue eyes, and the flawless face. His eyes trailed over her body, taking in the dip of her waist, and sword at her hip, the light boots upon her feet, and the daggers strapped there. He was entranced.

"Lady Trewrun?" he gaped, before shaking himself and bowing low, the tassel of his helm sweeping the ground. "It-it is a great honor to meet you. We have stories about you, how you aided our king."

She nodded, "And we are friends of your king, Theoden."

"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe,' he took off his helmet, letting his golden mane loose to blow in the breeze. "Not even his own kin."

The Rohirrim withdrew their spears, watching the group closely.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished.' the young man huffed, his eyes narrowing as he continued quietly, glancing around them. 'The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. Any everywhere, his spies slip past our nets."

"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."

"The Urks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

Thennil's heart seized, and her fea cried in anguish. Gimli sprung forward, his face full of concern, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"But there were two Hobbits. Did you see two Hobbits with them?" he asked desperately.

"They would be small,' said Aragorn.

"Small enough to be mistook for children in our eyes,' Thennil said, eyes filled with deep sorrow.

The horse-master shook his head, "We left none alive.' he looked away in the distance, where a pillar of smoke could be seen. 'We piled the carcasses and burned them."

Aragorn looked down, his face confused. Legolas blinked, as if trying to process the information that he had been give. Thennil slipped her hand into Aragorn's, squeezing it as she let a few of her emotions bubble up passing through her fingertips. Gimli stood stock still, staring in disbelief and shock at the man.

"Dead?"

"I am sorry."

Legolas put a hand on Gimli's shoulder as the dwarf turned from side to side.

Aragorn and the housemaster spoke for many minutes, sharing information about the happenings of the earth. It was in grief that Aragorn told of the deaths of both Gandalf and Boromir son of Denethor. The horse-master, of who they had been give the name Eomer, son of Eomund, the Third Marshal of the Mark. Eomer was grieved over the death of Boromir, having gotten to know the man of Gondor while he had stayed to rest a few days in the capital. He had come to find that the man was a great warrior, closer to that of his own people than to those of Gondor. He had only met him a few times because the man had been ever at war with those on the Eastern-borders.

"We have had no word of grief out of Gondor. When did he pass?" asked the man.

"It is now the fourth day since he was slain,' answered Aragorn; 'and since the afternoon of that day we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol Brandir."

"On foot?" cried Eomer in shock.

"Yes, even as you see us."

Wide wonder came into Eomer's eyes. "Strider is too poor a name; Wingfoot I name you. This deed of the four friends should be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you have measured ere the fourth day is ended! Hardy is the race of Elendil!

Thennil chuckled; _yes indeed._

The Eomer gave a sharp, shrill whistle, turning.

Hasufel! Arod!"

Out of the band of men trotted two horses, one was of a grey color, taller than many of the other horses with large hooves and a barrel chest. The other was smaller and lighter, but restive and fiery, danced before them.

"May they bear you well and to better fortune than their former masters."

Aragorn mounted upon Hasufel, offering Thennil a hand as she leapt up behind him. Legolas looked over the smaller horse, and requested that they take off the saddle and rein. "I need them not,' he said, and leaped lightly up, and to their wonder Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and there with but a spoken word: such was the Elvish way with all good beasts. Gimli was lifted up with the help of three men up behind his friend, and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam Gamgee in a boat.

"Farewell, and may you find what you seek!" cried Eomer, mounting his own steed. "But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands,' turning he his steed away, speaking to his men. "We ride North!"

And they rode off, disappearing over the hills.


	44. Chapter 42

They did not look back, only Gimli looked, gazing in wonder at the already small speck on the horizon which was Eomer's company. Aragorn looked steadily forward watching the trail as they sped on their way, bending low with his head beside the neck of Hasufel for a time. Before long they came to the borders of the Entwash, and there they met the other trail of which Eomer had spoken, coming down from the East out of the Wold.

Thennil clasped her hands around Aragorn's middle tightly, leaning into his back as they sped along, her cheek laying against his muscular shoulders. She listened to the steady beat of his heart as he searched the ground before them, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He was warm, and smelled quick rancid, but she could have cared less, she smelled much the same. His dark hair swirled around his head as they went along, mixing with her own copper locks as the breeze whipped them around.

When they were further down the trail, Aragorn dismounted and surveyed the ground, then leaping back in front of her, he rode some distance eastward, keeping to one side and taking care not to override the footprints. Then he again dismounted and examined the ground, going back and forth on foot. He did not call upon her knowledge of tracking, taking the large step to being the leader of their hunting party little by little.

"There is little to discover,' he said when he returned to them. 'The main trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen as they came back; their outward course myst have lain nearer the river. But this eastward trail is fresh and clear. There is no sign there of any feet going the other way, back towards the Anduin. Now we must ride much slower, and make sure that no trace or footstep branches off on either side. The Orcs must have been aware from this point that they were pursued; they may have made some attempt to get their captives away before they were overtaken."

 **As** they rode forward the day that had been overcast grew bright, the sun piercing through the clouds and beating on their backs relentlessly. The low grey clouds disappeared over the Wold. Ever nearer the tree-clad slopes of Fangorn loomed, slowly darkling as the sun went west. They saw no sign of any trail to right or left, but here and there they passed single Orcs, fallen in their tracks as they ran, with grey-feathered arrow sticking in the backer throat. Thennil looked over the bodies, and came to the conclusion that they had fallen behind to try and slow down the horseman while the main group ran ahead.

At last as the afternoon was waning they came to the eaves of the forest, and in the open land before it's edge among the trees they found the place of the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking, the stench was overwhelming, like a cross between burned flesh and rotten food. The bodies were piled high, their weapons of helms and mail, cloven shields, and broken swords, bows and darts and other gear of war mixed in with them. Upon a stake before the pile was set a great Orc head; upon its gruesome face was the white badge could be seen. There was a newly raised: the raw earth was covered with fresh-cut turves: about it were planted fifteen spears.

They dismounted quickly, Gimli going straight to the smoldering pile and sifting through it with his axe. Thennil stood before the pile, looking from it to the forest. She had not spent much time here, in Fangorn, only a little while to watch Saruman, but what she had felt was not pleasant. The dwarf dug down through the burnt remains of the orcs, grimacing and spiting upon the ground as he inhaled the awful smell before snatching something up from the pile.

He turned to them, his face full of sorrow, and said mournfully, "It's one of their wee belts."

"Nínion an girth lin,' whispered Thennil, closing her eyes and clutching a hand to her heart, a tear leaking out before she dashed it away. Her emotions were all over the place, a mixture of sadness, anger, and despair. She turned from him as he dug through and found the dagger; she clenched her fists at her side, looking angrily up at the sky. " _Amman_?"

" _Hiro hyn high ab 'wanath_ ," said the Elf, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

Aragorn swung his arms angrily, turning this way and that before he kicked one of the Orc helmets across the ground. He screamed, his voice full of anger and defeat, falling to his knees , arms limp at his sides as he looked down in despair.

"We failed them,' murmured Gimli.

Banishing her own anger, Thennil set a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, squeezing it, while with the other she combed through his hair. He leaned into her hand, looking down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. Turning his head as she ran her fingers through his hair, he turned his head more, moving his hands to touch the dirt. A glimmer of hope flashed through his eyes as he notes more marks upon the ground. Moving away from her hand, he touches each spot with his hand as she follows his movements, hope blooming in her own chest.

"A hobbits lay here,' he said, then fingering the dirt, 'and the other."

He sat back on his haunches, pondering the way the dirt and grass lay upon the ground, how it was matted, stomped even. His eyes shifted over to a new set of markings, touching the dirt and moving the grass a little.

"They crawled,' he moved faster across the ground, pointing to the ground, "Their hands were bound."

He picked up a small amount of rope, pulling it up from the trampled ground, grass and dirt clumped to it, "Their bonds were cut."

He went along across the grass, frantically looking over the tracks as they were combined with those of hooves, his head snapping to the right then the left. He followed the history left in the dirt and grass, images of what transpired flashing through his mind as the tracks were placed over one another.

"They ran over here,' continued Aragorn, Thennil looking over the tracks around those that Aragorn looked at, notice one set that seemed to be following those of the hobbits. Aragorn paused, looking at the set of prints that followed after the hobbits along the side, noting Thennil's interest in them. "They were followed."

Thennil picked up another one of their belts, finding the blade not far away. Aragorn took off running after the tracks, imagining them as they ran through the battle, then away.

"The tracks lead away from the battle,' he twisted around, looking at the scattered tracks weapons and helmets laying about, the tracks covered in places. They all ran after him as he took off, weaving back and forth across the ground. They came to a a stumbling stop, 'Into Fangorn Forest."

The three of them gazed into the dark woods, the gnarled trees so close together, as if they were guarding against any entry.

"Fangorn? What madness drove them in there?"

None answered his question, but Aragorn decided that they would rest for the night before choosing whether or not to enter the forest.

 **A** little way beyond the battle-field they made their camp under a spreading tree that grew far away from the rest of its cousins: it looked like a chestnut, and yet it still bore many broad brown leaves of a former year, like dry hands with long splayed fingers; they rattled mournfully in the night-breeze.

Gimli shivered. They had brought only one blanket apiece, and the clothes that were upon their backs.

"Let us light a fire,' he said. 'I care no longer for the danger. Let the Orcs come as thick as summer-moths round a candle!"

"If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them hither,' said Legolas, filled with hope.

"It might draw other things, neither Orc nor Hobbit,' stated Thennil, having camped within the trees and on the edge of the forest before. 'We are near to the mountain-marches of the traitor Saruman,' she spoke his name like a curse, 'Also we are on the very edge of Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said, and I know."

"But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday,' said Gimli, 'and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet they passed the night after safely here, when their labour was ended."

"They were many,' said Aragorn from besides her, 'and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do no go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care!"

"There is no need,' said the dwarf, standing and looking about. 'The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty."

He went off to gather fuel, and busied himself with building and kindling a fire; but Aragorn sat in silence with his back to the great tree, Thennil sitting cross-legged beside him playing with the dried grass, deep in thought; and Legolas stood along in the open, looking towards the profound shadow of the wood, leaning forward, as one who listens to voices calling from a distance.

When Gimli had a small bright blaze going, the four companions drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light with their hooded forms. Aragorn had grasped her hand, drawing her down to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and covering her with part of his cloak. Legolas looked up at the boughs of the tree reaching out above them.

"Look!' he said in amazement. 'The tree is glad of the fire!"

It may have been that the dancing shadows tricked their eyes, but certainly to each of the companions the boughs appeared to be bending and swaying above them so that they came close to the flames, while the upper branches were stooping down; the brown leaves now stood out stiff, and rubbed together like many cold cracked hands taking comfort in the warmth. Thennil observed the tree, and whispered ancient words of her people, thanking it for it's shelter. It seemed to stand straighter at that, but still bent over the fire.

After awhile Legolas spoke again.

"Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn,' he said. 'Do you know why, Aragorn? Thennil? What are the fables of the forest that Boromir had heard, or you Thennil. You spent some time here if I remember your words from your father's house."

"I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere,' said Aragorn, looking down at Thennil as she rested her head on his shoulder, 'but if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades. I thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter.' he said to Thennil, her being the eldest of them all, and having lived long in their world. 'And if an Elf does not know, how shall a Man answer?"

"I have journeyed far, further than any of you, I think,' she said, drawing a circle in the dirt with her toe as she spoke. 'I did not hear any of this from the lands of the north, save for the songs that tell how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it."

"Yes, it is old,' agreed Aragorn, 'as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own."

He turned to look down at her again, and she was caught up in the handsome form of his face, his strong jaw rough with the starting of a beard. "What the secret is, I do not know. I have travelled around it, and through a small portion while spying on our enemy, but I did not discover it."

"And I do not wish to know,' said Gimli, chomping down on a stale corner of lembas bread. 'Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!"

That night they drew lots for the watches, and the lot fell first to Gimli. The others lay down and almost at once sleep took ahold of them. Thennil huddled as deep under her blanket as she could, only her eyes could be seen if they were open, as she curled up into a tight ball to keep as warm as possible. She had moved away from Aragorn, knowing that even when keeping warm, there were some rules that must be followed.

"Gimli,' said Aragorn drowsily, his tired eyes fluttering as he moved to rest next to her. 'Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or twig from a living tree in Fangorn. But do not stray far in search of dead wood. Let the fire die rather! Call me at need!"

He lay down next to her, far enough away that it wouldn't be considered improper, but close enough that they could share the pocket of warmth between them. He was almost instantly asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending living night and deep dream, as was the way of most Elves. Thennil and her siblings were the exception, behind half-Elven, and could sleep with their eyes opened or closed. Gimli sat hunched over the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There was no other sound.

And so the night continued, Thennil, then Aragorn taking their watches, then falling back asleep, Gimli's snoring like a soft horn in the night.

 **The** next morning dawned early, with Legolas sitting watch over the camp, his eyes watchful. Thennil stirred from her spot upon the ground, curling up towards the warm, eager to get closer. Her eyes were closed, as she was still more than half asleep. She stretched, her mind slowly waking. She could smell the grass, feel the stones sticking up here and there on the bumpy ground, the cool air nipped at her nose and she wrinkled it. She nuzzled into her soft pillow, sighing as she turned over.

Her eyes snapped open with a jerk, and she looked down at her 'pillow'. She stiffened. That wasn't a pillow by a long shot. Trying not to panic, she took a few short breaths, closing her eyes again and praying that this was all just a dream. Opening them again, she looked up at her 'pillow'. Aragorn snored softly, his face calm, taking a few years off of his features. A piece of his hair hung just in front of his face, and it swayed back and forth with each inhale and exhale from the Ranger. Now that she was wide awake, she realized that she was no longer sleeping under just her blanket. Aragorn's arm was draped over her waist, and with it was part of his own blanket, worn as it was. She didn't dare move out from under him.

Slowly, she shifted her hand up from where it was trapped between their bodies, and gently stroked his cheek, a tingling started up in her hand, moving through her arm into her chest. He looked so peaceful, the weight of the world gone from his shoulders for a few hours. It reminded her of when he was a boy, watching him fall asleep after a long story, or song. She tried to remember when she had started to fall in love with him.

"I don't know if there was a when,' she whispered. 'I think it was more of a how, because I have always loved you."

He didn't stir, just continued to snore as she smoothed out the strands of his hair. "And I will continue to."

 **"My** very bones are chilled,' said Gimli, flapping his arms and stamping his feet.

Day had come at last. At dawn the companions had made such breakfast as they could; now in the growing light they were getting ready to enter into Fangorn Forest, as was Aragorn's decision. When he had woke, she had pretended to be asleep, of which she was very good at, and he had left her to 'wake up' on her own. They stood all alone before the great expanse that was Fangorn Forest, looking into it's shadows.

Legolas ignored the dwarf, rolling his eyes, "I do not think the wood feels evil, whatever tales may say,' he stood under the eaves of the forest, stooping forward with Thennil, as if they were listening, and peering with wide eyes into the deep shadows. 'No, it is not evil; or what evil is in it is far away. I catch only the faintest echoes of dark places where the hearts of the trees are black."

And so they entered the forest, Thennil in front with Aragorn, because she had superior sight, and Legolas in the rear, guarding their back from any unforeseen enemy. They tracked through the woods, searching along the moss-covered ground. The trees were bent this way and that, twisted like wire in every direction. From the hung vines, and clinging to their bark was a deep green moss, even greener than that of Mirkwood. It was very dim within the forest, the leaves blocking most of the light. A small stream trickled among the gnarled roots of the trees, the only noise to be heard in their part of the forest.

Gimli paused in his walking, swiping something off of a leaf and putting it in his mouth. In an instant he spat it out, gagging at the flavor.

"Orc blood."

Aragorn scoured the forest floor, following the tracks of the hobbits with Thennil. Legolas followed closely after them, bow in hand. The dwarf hurried to keep up with them as they moved, weaving from side to side, halting at the strange change in tracks before them.

"These are strange tracks,' murmured Aragorn, looking to Thennil.

"I have never seen anything like them, but then again, neither have I travelled deep into the forest,' she answered his unasked question with a shake of her head.

Moving farther into the wood, Gimli followed after them, leaning on his axe heavily. "The air is so stuffy. This wood is lighter than parts of Kirkwood, but it is musty and shabby."

"It is old, very old,' said Legolas looking about them.

"Yes, so old that I almost feel young again, as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children,' Thennil chuckled, gaining three unappreciated looks from the three males.

"It is full of memory...and anger." Legolas looked about the forest, as if he would feel the trees emotions. Low groans echoed throughout the woods, and Gimli gasped, gripping his axe tighter and lifting it higher. "The trees are speaking to one another."

Gimli waved his axe about, looking warily at the trees as they groaned.

"Gimli!" Aragorn whispered sharply.

The dwarf jumps, turning around to look at the man.

"Lower your axe,' Aragorn stated, motioning towards the ground with his hand.

Gimli lowered his axe, his eyes flicking from side to side in concern.

"They have feelings, my friend,' spoke Legolas. 'The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

"Talking trees,' gaped Gimli in disbelief. Were elves really that strange? 'What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

They continued on through the woods, following the strange tracks. They came to a ledge, and Aragorn climbed up upon it, looking about. But he saw nothing in either direction that was of any use. The shelf faced southward and eastward; but only the east was the view open. There he could see the heads of the trees descending in ranks towards the plain from which they had come.

"We have journeyed a long way round,' said Legolas. 'We could have all come here safe together, if we had left the Great River on the second or third day and stock west. Few can force whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end."

"But we did not wish to come to Fangorn,' said Gimli.

"Yet here we are - and nicely caught in the net,' said Thennil, rolling her eyes.

"Look!" cried Legolas, peering off into the trees behind them.

"Look at what?" asked Gimli as Legolas hurried through the trees.

"Aragorn, and na ennas!" he cried softly.

"Man clench?" asked the Ranger, following after the Elf.

"There in the trees,' said the elf, pointing.

"Where,' grumbled Gimli, 'I have not elf-eyes."

"Hush! Speak more softly! Look!" The elf pointed again, the whispering even softer, 'The White Wizard approaches."

The four of them looked at each other, feeling the weight of the announcement. Aragorn, nodded to Legolas and Thennil's bows.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us,' he whispered.

Thennil nodded, unstrapping her bow and stringing an arrow, getting into a crouch. Aragorn muffled the sound of his sword leaving it's scabbard, and Gimli gripped his axe in readiness. She breathed out slowly, waiting for Aragorn to give them the signal.

"We must be quick."

With a yell, they swung around to attack the wizard. A bright blinding light enveloped them, shining out from the wizard. Gimli threw his axe with a shout, and cried out with a sharp yelp when it was shattered. Both Legolas and Thennil launched their arrows, reaching back for another only to have them deflected and their hands froze. Aragorn gripped his sword, the last line of defense as he faced the wizard, but cried out when it turned a bright red, burning his hand, it clattered to the forest floor as they all gaped at the wizard, blocking the bright light with their hands.

"Well met, I say!" said the wizard, the blinding light still stinging down on them as he walked towards them. They shifted a few steps backwards. "And what might you be doing in these parts? Two Elves, a Man, and a Dwarf, all clad in Elvish fashion. Such things are not often seen here."

Aragorn did not speak, unsure of the wizard.

"I assume that you are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits."

Thennil gasped, then grew angry. "What have you done to them, Wizard?"

"Done? Why, I have done nothing to them,' replied the wizard, the bright light blazing. 'They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" asked Aragorn, fear blooming in his heart. 'Show yourself!"

The wizard laughed lightly, recalling his light, and slowly his was revealed. They could not see his face: he was hooded, and all his features were overshadowed, except for the end of his nose and his white beard. Yet it seemed to Aragorn that he caught the gleam of eyes keen and bright from within the shadow of the hooded brows. The wizard threw back his hood and cloak, revealing a man dressed all in white, whiter than snow. Thennil gasped; Aragorn looked upon the wizard, astounded.

"It cannot be,' he whispered.

"Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman,' said Legolas, kneeling on the forest floor. Gimli joined him, his knees shaking, as he bowed before the light of the wizard.

"I am Saruman. Or rather, Saruman as he should have been,' replied the wizard.

"You fell."

"Through fire and water,' stated the wizard. 'From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again.'

"I have been sent back, until my task is done."

"Gandalf,' said Thennil, looking up at the wizard, eyes watering.

"Gandalf?' asked the wizard, momentarily confused. 'Yes. That's what they used to call me."

Thennil nodded, smiling. The wizard looked her over, and smiled wider.

"Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

"Gandalf." whispered Gimli in awe.

"I am Gandalf the White,' smirked the wizard.

Legolas grinned.

"And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

Gandalf led them through the forest, listening as Aragorn told of their journey since they lost him at the bridge, though they did not enjoy reliving the memories. The Ranger blamed himself, and the path that he had set for them, knowing that it had been a deciding factor in the death of their friend, Boromir. Gandalf shook his head, wondering when these young ones would learn that not everything was their fault. He also stated that if they had taken a different course the hobbits would not be lost to them.

"Come, Aragorn son of Arathorn!' he said. 'Do not regret your choice in the valley of the Emyn Muil, nor call it a vain pursuit. You chose amid doubts the path that seemed right: that choice was just, and it has been rewarded, greatly.' the wizard looked between the man and the elleth. 'For so we have met in time, who otherwise might have met too late. But the quest of your companions is over. Your next journey shall be to Edoras with all speed."

"Edoras? That is no short distance!' cried Gimli, having travelled at the back and unable to here the quiet whisperings of Gandalf and Aragorn.

"We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the King."

The wizard stopped, looking at the Ranger.

"Yes, it will not be easily cured."

"The we have run all this way for nothing?' cried Gimli in his ignorance. 'Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested-the trees began to groan and complain- I mean, charming...quite charming forest."

"And will you now come with me?' asked Gandalf waiting to answer Gimli.

"Yes, we will set out together,' said Aragorn. 'But I do not doubt that you will come there before me, if you wish." He looked long at Gandalf. the others gazed at them in silence as they stood there facing one another. The grey figure of the Man, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was tall, and stern as tone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword; he looked as if some king out of the mists of the sea had stepped upon the shores of lesser men.

Turning to the dwarf, the wizard answered him, "It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

Aragorn smiled. "In one thing you have not changed, dear friend."

Gandalf leaned closer to the Ranger, as if sharing a great secret.

"You still speak in riddles." They chuckled and laughed.

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong."

Gimli and Thennil exchanged glances, and he smiled nervously. "Strong?! Oh, that's good."

They had come close to the edge of the woods, and Thennil could see the light shining brightly beyond the edge of the forest.

"Yes, so stop your fretting, Master Dwarf."

She chuckled, hopping over the gnarled roots and trunks of the trees as they neared the edge of the forest. She was eager to be out from the dark place, she longed for the light of the sun on her face and the feeling of the wind in her hair.

"Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be,' the wizard told them, walking along.

"This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one,' whispered Gimli, more to himself, but both Legolas and Thennil heard him, chuckling and laughing at his expense. He growled at them, but continued to walk along, his axe gripped tightly in his hand.

As they exited the woods, Gandalf's face lit up, and he turned to Aragorn as if remembering something. "I was bidden to say this to you:

 _Where now are the Dunedain, Elessar, Elassar?_

 _Why do thy kinsfolk wander afar?_

 _Near is the hour when the Lost should come forth,_

 _And the Grey Company ride from the North._

 _But dark is the path appointed for thee:_

 _The dead watch the road that leads to the Sea._

To Legolas I was bidden to say this:

 _Legolas Greenleaf long under tree_

 _In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!_

 _If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_

 _They heart shall then rest in the forest no more,_

 _But hence if thou discover a love,_

 _Thy heart might long for the sea_

 _unless thou learn to love forevermore._

"Dark are your words,' said Legolas, 'and little do they mean to those that receive them."

"That did not bring any comfort,' muttered Gimli.

"What then?' hissed Legolas, 'Would you have him speak openly of you of death like Thennil?"

"Yes, if there was naught else to say."

And not until much later was anymore spoke of the words that Gandalf had brought. When they had stopped to rest an hour later, he took her aside, and began to mumble to himself.

"Wander...golden warrior...sacrifice...Ah! I did have a word for you,' he said, smiling down at her. She nodded, encouraging, and waited for him to speak.

" _You've danced in a forest of stars,_

 _under a moon that illuminated your scars,_

 _You wander here and there,_

 _a warrior, a shield, a woman fair,_

 _Where is the golden warrior?_

 _With the strength to hold the barrier._

 _Near is their hour_

 _Near is the Dawn_

 _but before the light, darkness first,_

 _a great thirst_

 _of a hungry heart,_

 _young love that goes on and on,_

 _and hope that blooms thereupon,_

 _but then_ _a gate,_ _a choice,_

 _a great sacrifice."_

He watched her as she puzzled out his words.

"It is talking about me for the most part, but who is this golden warrior?" she wondered aloud to herself as she looked over the plains.

 **I stink at poetry, so please forgive me, I know that it doesn't rhyme.**

 **Hope you all liked the chapter,**

 **Please review!**

 **Robin.**


	45. Chapter 43

Walking out of the forest, the group looked around. Their horses, which they had set free early that morning, had wandered away.

"They have not returned,' sighed Legolas. 'It will be a weary walk."

"I shall not walk. Time presses,' said Gandalf. Then lifting his head, he gave a long melodious whistle. It was so clear and the note so piercing that the others stood amazed to hear such a sound come from one so old and bearded. Three times he whistled, each a different tone and pitch; and then faint and far off it seemed to them that they heard the whinny of a horse borne up from the plains upon the eastern wind. they waited wondering, looking over the plains in curiosity. Before long there came the sound of hoofs, at first hardly more than a tremor of the ground perceptible only to Aragorn as he lay upon the grass, then growing steadily louder and clearer to a quick beat.

"There is more than one horse coming,' he said, his ear to the ground.

"Certainly,' said Gandalf. 'We are to great a burden for one."

"There are three,' stated Legolas, his eyes skimming over the plain.

"Look at how they run!' she gasped. 'There is Hasufel, and there, Arod is beside him! but there is another that strides ahead: a very great horse. I have only seen the likes of him once before, and then it was at night under the moon."

"Nor will you again,' said Gandalf. 'That is Shadowfax, chief of the Mearas, and lord of all horses, and not even Theoden, King of Rohan, has ever looked on a better. Does he not shine like silver, and run as smoothly as a swift stream? He has come for me: the horse of the White Rider. He has been my friend through many dangers. "

Even as the old wizard spoke, the great horse came striding up before him; his coat glistening and his mane flowing in the wind of his speed. The two others followed, not far behind. As soon as Shadowfax saw Gandalf, he checked his pace and whinnied loudly; then trotting gently forward he stooped his proud head and nuzzled his great nostrils against the old man's neck.

Gandalf caressed him. "It is a long way from Rivendell, my friend,' he said; 'but you are wise and swift and come at need. Far let us ride now together, and part not in this world again!"

Soon the other horses came up and stood quietly by, as if awaiting orders.

"We go at once to Meduseld, the hall of your master, Theoden,' said Gandalf, addressing them gravely. They bowed their heads reverently. 'Time presses, so with your leave, my friends, we will ride. We beg you to use all the speed that you can. Hasufel shall bear Aragorn and Arod Legolas and Gimli. Thennil shall sit behind me, and by his leave Shadowbox shall bear us both. We will wait now only to drink a little."

Gandalf spoke now to Shadowbox, and the horse set off at a good pace, despite the added weight, yet he did not go beyond the measure of the others as they ran. After a little while he turned suddenly, and choosing a place where the banks were lower, he waded the river, and then led them away due south into a flat land, treeless and wide. The wind went like grey waves through endless miles of grass and small bushes. There was no sign of road or track, but Shadowbox did not stay or falter.

"He is steering a straight course now for the halls of Theoden under the slopes of the White Mountains,' said Gandalf. 'It will be quicker so. The ground is firmer in the Eastemnet, where the chief northward track lies, across the river, but Shadowfax knows the way through fen and hollow."

For many hours they rode on through the meads and river lands. Often the grass was so high that it reached above the knees of the riders, and their steeds seemed to be swimming in a grey-green sea. They came upon many hidden pools, and broad acres of sedge waving above the wet and treacherous bogs; but Shadowfax found the way, and the other horses followed in his swath.

Aragorn watched the back of Thennil as she held onto Gandalf as they rode through the bogs. She balanced on the back of Shadowfax, her back straight as an arrow, but bending this way and that with each movement. He was frustrated that Gandalf had not had her ride with him, knowing that she would encircle his waist with her arms and lean against them as they rode. After the sun had fallen into the west he saw that a great plain lay before them, and far away they saw it for but a moment like a red fire sinking into the grass. Low upon the edge of sigh shoulders of the mountains glinted red upon either side. A smoke seemed to rise up and darken the sun's disc to the hue of blood, as if it had kindled the grass as it passed down under the rim of the earth.

"There lies the Gap of Rohan,' said Gandalf. 'It is now almost due west of us. That way lies Isengard."

"There is a great smoke, Gandalf. What may it be?" she asked, worried.

"Battle and war!' replied the wizard sharply. 'Ride on!"

 **T** hey rode on through the sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night. When they halted and dismounted, even Aragorn was stiff and weary. Gandalf only allowed them a few hours rest, their weary bodies dropping to the ground like flies as they fell asleep. Legolas and Gimli slept, Gimli's snores could have waken a whole mountain of dwarves. Thennil had laid down upon the ground, spreading her cloak beneath her as she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Aragorn joined Gandalf at his watch, waiting for her to fall into a deep sleep. The wizard turned to look at him from under his bushy brows.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rial. From the summit of Barad-dur, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Numenor still lives."

Aragorn looked over at the wizard, realizing that he was already looking deep into his eyes.

"Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become."

The ranger looked out over the land, then over at the slumbering form of Thennil as she curled up on herself. Gandalf looked out over the east.

"And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of Men. He will use his puppet Saruman to destroy Rohan. War is coming. rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge for Rohan is weak and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved, it's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Theoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning, we have one advantage."

Aragorn looked back at the wizard with mild confusion.

"The Ring remains hidden."

The Ranger nodded.

"And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams. And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor in the hands of a Hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed and the secrecy of his quest."

Aragorn's face took on a worried expression, full of regret. He had not wanted to leave the hobbits to fend for themselves on the wasteland of Emyn Muil.

"Do not regret you decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."

"He is not alone. Sam went with him."

Gandalf smiled, chewing on his pipe with satisfaction. "Did he? Did he, indeed? Good."

He looked back over the plain, over the distance that they would have to travel. "Yes, very good."

Once Gandalf had finished speaking with him, Aragorn moved over to where Thennil rested. Listening to make sure she had slipped into a deep slumber, Aragorn stretched out beside her upon his back, draping his cloak over her body as he let sleep overtake him. Gandalf stood, leaning on his staff, gazing off into the darkness, east and west. All was silent, and there was no sign or sound of living things.

The night was barred with long clouds, fleeting on a chill wind, when they arose again. Gimli and Legolas were the first to be awoken by Gandalf, who could see the exhaustion on Thennil and Aragorn's faces as they snuggled together. Gimli glared at the man as he had slipped an arm around the elleth's waist in his sleep. His people help Thennil in high regard, and their customs were very strict when it came to touching their women. Even if Thennil wasn't a dwarf, the dwarves treated her like she was one of their own, and that meant no touching in an intimate manner. Legolas put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from stomping over and ripping the two apart. The dwarf growled at the elf, and glared down at the man.

"Do not disturb them, mellonin,' he whispered, readying the horses.

"And why not?' asked the dwarf, huffing. 'It is highly inappropriate!"

"I am surprised that you have not learned anything about our traditions since your Queen is half-elven,' the elf told the dwarf.

"And what is that supposed to mean?' grumbled Gimli.

"Have you not seen the ring upon her finger? Upon his?" asked the Elf.

"Aye? But what does that have to do with anything? It's a piece of jewelry."

Legolas shook his head, he would not try to explain the reason for the rings to the stubborn dwarf now. Perhaps at a later time when Aragorn and Thenni were not in an intimate embrace.

Gandalf walked swiftly over to the two, gently prodding Aragorn with his staff to wake him. The ranger reacted almost instantly, reaching for his sword and looking up at what he perceived as a threat. He relaxed when his sight cleared and it was only Gandalf standing over him, not an orc as he supposed. Gandalf nodded at the woman in his arms, raising a bushy eyebrow and smirking. The ranger blushed faintly under his stubble, and turning to the woman, gently woke her.

Blinking slowly, Thennil woke. She stretched her sore muscles as she looked around, then up into the face of Aragorn as he stared down at her. The weight of his gaze worried her; she had never seen him look so intently at anyone as he was doing now. Sitting up, she scooted away to put some distance between them as she tidied her clothes. After she had adjusted her clothes accordingly, he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Come, we must continue on,' he whispered, helping her mount behind the wizard.

"Once this is all over I think we will all want to sleep for a century,' she smiled teasingly.

He chuckled, and nodded as he mounted Hasufel.

Hours passed and still they rode on. At one point Gimli had begun to nod off and would have called from his seat, if Legolas had not clutched and shaken him. Hasufel and Arod, weary but proud, followed their tireless leader, a grey shadow before them hardly to be seen. the miles went by. The waxing moon sank into the cloudy West.

A bitter chill cam into the air. And in the East the dark sky faded to a cold grey. Red shafts of light leapt above the black walls of Emyn Muil far away upon their left. Dawn came clear and bright; a wind swept across their path, rushing through the bent grasses. Suddenly Shadowfax stood still and neighed. Gandalf pointed ahead.

"Look!' he cried, and they lifted their tired eyes. Before them stood the mountains of the South: white-tipped and streaked with black. The grass-lands rolled against the hills clustered at their feet, and ran up into many valleys still dim and dark, untouched by the light of the dawn, winding their way into the heart of the great mountains. In an instant a great plain opened up before them like a long gulf among the hills. Far inward they glimpsed a tumbled mountain-mass with one tall peak; at the mouth of the vale there stood like a sentinel a lonely height. About its feet there flowed, as a silver thread, the stream that issued from the dale; upon its brow they caught, still far away, a glint in the rising sun, a glimmer of gold.

"Speak, Legolas, Thennil!' said Gandalf. 'Tell us what you see there before us.

Thennil looked out over the plain, straining her eyes to see the hill that rose up out of the mists of the morning. She shaded her eyes form the piercing sun as it rose over the mountains.

"I see a white stream that comes down from the snows,' said Legolas. 'Where it issues from the shadow of the vale a green hill rises upon the east. A dike and mighty wall and thorny fence encircles one side, and the other is protected by great stones."

Thennil looked closer at the city, seeing that there were many new houses and roofs than she remembered. "Within there rises roofs of houses; and in the midst, set upon a great green terrace, there stands aloft a great hall of Men. And it seems to my eyes that it is thatched with gold. The light of it shines far over the land. Golden, too, are the posts of its doors."

"There are men in bright mail standing before the doors; but all else within the courts are yet asleep."

"Edoras those courts are called,' said Gandalf, 'and Meduseld is that golden hall. There dwells Theoden son of Thengel, King of the Mark of Rohan. We are come with the rising of the day. Now the road lies plain to see before us."

And so they started down into the plain which stretched out forever and anon before them. The morning was clear and bright, and the birds were singing from the grasses, greeting the dawn. The traveller soon came to a stream, which ran down swiftly into the plain, and beyond the feet of the hills turned across their bath in a wide bend, flowing away east to feed the Entwash far off in its reed-choked beds. The land was green: in the wet meads and along the grassy borders of the stream grew many willow-trees. Already in this southern land they were blushing red at their fingertips, feeling the approach of spring. Over the stream there was a ford between the low banks much trampled by the passage of horses. The travellers passed over and came upon a wide rutted track leading towards the uplands.

As they were riding up the road, Thennil noticed many small white flowers that grew, as if they grasses were covered in a dusting of snow, they sprang like countless stars amid the turf.

"How fair are the bright eyes in the grass! Ever mind they are called, _simbelmyne_ in this land of Men, for they blossom in all the seasons of the year, and grow where dead men rest. Behold! we are coming to the great barrows where the sires of Theoden sleep."

Aragorn rode near them on Hesufel looking over the many mounds. "Seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right. Many long lives of men it is since the golden hall was built."

"Five hundred times have the red leaves fallen in Mirkwood in my home since then,' said Legolas, 'and but a little while does that seem to us."

"But to the Riders of the Mark it seems so long ago,' said Thennil, 'The raising of this house is but a memory of song, and the years before are lost in the mist of time. I can remember the exact day that they started on that terrace, raising the structure to greet the sky."

Aragorn nodded, remembering what she had told him about the kings of the past. "Now they call this land their home, their own, and their speech is hundred from their northern kin.' he began to chant softly in a slow tongue unknown to Legolas and Gimli; yet they listened, for there was a strong music in it. Thennil smiled over at him, remembering how long it had taken him to master the language under her tutelage back when he was a child. She had know many of the languages of Middle Earth, having travelled so extensively.

"That, I guess, is the language of the Rohirrim,' said Legoals; 'for it is like the land itself; rich and rolling in part, and else has and stern as the mountains. But I cannot guess what it means, save that it is laden with the sadness of Mortal Men."

"We have not time for it now,' said Gandalf, Shadowfax quickening his pace, 'We must reach the halls as soon as possible!"

They rode quickly past the rest of the mounds, around a bend in the path, and came to the gate. There they met many men in bright mail, who sprang at once to their feet and barred the way with spears. 'Stay, strangers here unknown!' they cried in the tongue of the Riddlemark, demanding the names and errand of the strangers. Wonder was in their eyes but little friendliness; and they looked darkly upon Gandalf and his hooded companion.

Thennil shook her head, amazed the Brego's people could have become so hostile to guests. Dismounting, she approached the men, who drew their swords. Aragorn made to dismount, put Gandalf stayed him with a motion of his hand as he watched Thennil approach the men.

"Well do I understand your speech,' she answered them in the same language; 'yet few strangers do so. Why then do you not speak in the Common Tongue, as it is the custom in the West, if you wish to be answered?"

"It is the will of Theoden King that none should enter his gates, save those who know our tongue and are our friends,' replied one of the guards, eyeing her warily. She rolled her eyes beneath her hood. 'None are welcome here in days of war but our own folk, and those that come from Mundburg in the land of Gondor. Who are you that come heedless over the plain thus strangely clad, riding horses like to our own horses? Long have we kept guard here, and we have watched you from afar. Never have we seen other riders so strange, nor any horse more proud than is one of these that bear you. He is one of the _Mearas_ , unless my eyes are cheated by some spell. Speak now and be swift!"

"I had not thought my welcome to the halls of your fathers would be so cold,' she said, pulling back her hood, which caused many of the men to gap at her in shock. 'Long has it been since I walked these streets and ate with your people, but I had hoped that you had not forgotten your hospitality."

The spokesman for the men bowed low before her, 'We have not heard from you in many a year, My Lady, and had thought you had abandoned us like the rest of Men."

She shook her head, 'Did I not vow to Brego, to Eorl even, that I would always help in times of trouble? Just because I have not been here does not mean that I have been hiding from the enemy.'

'And no, your eyes do not cheat you. For indeed these are your own horses that we ride, as you knew well ere you asked, I guess. But seldom does thief ride home to the stable. Here are Hasufel and Arod, that Eomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, lent to us, only two days ago."

"He is well?" asked the Rider quietly, looking about at the other men.

"Aye, though I wonder why he was banished in the first place,' she stated, raising an accusing eyebrow at the men as they cowered.

"That is not for me to say,' replied the man, 'But I will not refuse you entrance to Edoras, nor your friends, My Lady, though we be tossed into the guard house for our actions by Wormtongue."

She nodded her thanks, and turned to remount behind Gandalf as they opened the gates. Gandalf muttered sharply to himself, looking around the group. The dark gates were swung open. The travellers entered, their steeds walking in file behind them as Gandalf directed Shadowfax up the hill. They found themselves on a broad path, paved with hewn stones, now winding upward, now climbing in short flights of well-laid steps. Many houses built of wood and many dark doors they passed. They had ridden past many people, all looking them over with suspicion as they rode up the hill. There was almost no noise as they trotted along, everyone stopping to look at them, their expressions emotionless. From where they trotted they could see the stone threshold of the stronghold, upon which a woman stood, her bright golden hair blowing in the breeze as she watched them intently.

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard,' muttered Gimli, looking around at all the eyes watching them.

Looking up at the hall, Thennil realized that the lady had disappeared.

 **T** hey had dismounted from their horses, and walking up the stairs of the stronghold, came to a stop before a group of armed men. Gandalf leaned heavily upon his staff, as if he was indeed an old man. He looked up at the man and smiled.

The man did not return his mirth, but spoke seriously. "I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue."

Gandalf nodded to the other's to surrender their weapons. Thennil smirks as she and the others slowly began to unarm themselves, everything from small knives to swords to arrows and axes being handed over. Even though she had handed over her weapons, she had kept one small dagger hidden beneath her tunic, fastened to her inner thigh. There was no way she was going to part with that item before so many men.

Legolas handed over his bow, looking intently at the man before him. "Keep these well,' he said, 'for they come from the Golden Wood and the Lady of Lothlorien gave them to me."

Wonder came into the man's eyes and he laid the weapons hastily against the wall, as if he feared to handle them at all. "No man will touch them, I promise you." he said.

Aragorn looked down at the sword he held in his hand. It had been given to him by Thennil upon his twenty-first birthday, and was treasured dearly by him. Dol-grithor, it had been named. "It is not my will,' he said, 'to put aside my sword or to deliver Dol-grithor to the hand of any other man."

"It is the will of Theoden,' reminded the man.

Aragorn made to speak, but Thennil rested a hand on his shoulder. **_It is only a sword, Aragorn, even if it is a gift from me._** He nodded, and handed it over reluctantly, glaring at the man who held it darkly.

"Your staff,' motioned the man, looking at the white staff that the wizard was leaning so heavily upon. The wizard looked at his staff and scoffed innocently.

"You would not part an old man from his walking stick." he continued his innocent charade. The man nodded, rolling his eyes, and gestured from them to follow after him, turning.

Thennil had to stifle a giggle when the wizard winked at both Aragorn and herself. He followed the man into the hall, taking Legolas' arm to lean upon for support like an old man. They followed him into the Hall. Inside it was dark and warm after the clear air of the hill. The hall was long and wide and filled with shadows and half lights; mighty pillars upheld its lofty roof. But here and there bright sunbeams fell in deep eaves. Through the louver in the rood, above the thin wisps of issuing smoke, the sky showed pale and blue. Many woven cloths were hung upon the walls, and over the wide spaces marched figures of ancient legend, some dim with tears, some darkling in the shade. But upon one form the sunlight fell: a young man upon a white horse. He was blowing a great horn, and his yellow hair was flying in the wind. The horse's head was lifted, and its nostrils were wide and red as it neighed, smelling battle from afar. Foaming water, green and white, rushed and curled about its knees.

"Behold! Work the Young!' whispered Thennil looking over the tapestry. It amazed her that this one tapestry had lasted this long, over four-hundred years. She remembered sitting with the man's young granddaughter as they had begun to stitch it. 'Thus he rode out of the North to the Battle of the Field of Celebrant."

They entered the hall, and the doorkeeper bowed before the king as he stepped aside for them to walk. Sitting beside the king was a greasy looking man with translucent skin. His eyes were hooded, as if hiding something. He leaned over the kings chair, whispering something into his ear while looking at them evil-y. As they walked down the hall towards Theoden, the guards closed the door noisily behind them. Thennil's eyes flickered back and forth from one side to the other as she noticed several Men behind the contingent of guards following them as they walked towards the king.

The king had aged far beyond his years. His beard was laid like snow upon his knees; his eyes glazed over and watery. Upon his head sat a crown in which a single white diamond shone. He was bent up, his hands gnarled and twisted, his skin slack and sagging. He was dressed in fine clothes, but they could do nothing for his appearance. He looked like he should have joined the dust with his forefathers.

Her sharp ears picked up the slimey man's words. "He is a herald of woe."

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King," spoke the wizard as they continued to walk.

"He is not welcome,' hissed the man, glaring at the wizard.

Finally, the kings spoke, his breathing labored, and his voice weary: "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?"

The king looked to the snake-like man beside him, who nodded in agreement. "A just question, my liege."

The man rose, and Thennil assumed that this must be Grima Wormtongue. He walked to meet them, blocking Theoden from their view, sneering at them, while taking a longer, longing look at Thennil, who had thrown back her cloak. His eyes greedily looked over her body, and she glared at the man.

"Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill new is an ill guest." the man looked them over.

Gandalf glared at the man, as Aragorn moved in front of Thennil. "Be silent."

The worm froze in his tracks, turning to look at the wizard.

"Keep you forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." Thennil smiled as Gandalf raised his staff to hit the man. In fear, Grima stumbled back, gazing in horror at the white staff heading for him.

"His Staff." he looked to the guards. 'I told you to take the wizards staff!

From all side the men attacked, drawing their sword. Thennil and the other's blocked their advances with their bodies, she drawing her dagger while the other's fought with their fists. Gandalf walked through the fighting throng, hitting one of the men as he went with his staff.

"Theoden, son of Thengel...

The king stared wickedly at the wizard, a wizen smile forming on his face.

'...too long have you sat in the shadows."

The four of them finished off the rest of the men, while Grima tried to crawl away unnoticed. Catching the movement out of the side of his eye, Gimli turned and pinned the man to the floor under his heavy foot.

"I would stay still if I were you,' he growled, staring down at the man.

Gandalf walked closer to the king. "Hearken to me! I release you from the spell."

The King began to laugh, a crazy, menacing laugh, and Gandalf opened his eyes wider.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey,' he cackled.

Gandalf grew angry, and throwing back his robes, let the white light of his person shine brightly upon the king. Theoden was forced back against his chair, and cried out as the wizard advanced, his power radiating around the room. Thennil watched from beside Legolas, watching.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound,' stated the wizard, thrusting his staff towards the king. The force crushes the king back into his throne. The wizard moved closer, staring intently at the king in his chair.

From a side-door a woman rushed forward, her golden hair shining in the light as she looked at the king. She ran towards the king, thinking that he was in trouble, when Aragorn caught her in his arms, holding her back.

"Wait."

"If I go, Theoden dies,' spoke the king, only it was not his voice. Thennil bristled, knowing to whom the voice belonged. Gandalf thrust his staff forward again, throwing the king back.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him."

The king struggled against Gandalf, hate welling in his eyes, and gasped. "Rohan...is mine."

"Be gone." cried the wizard just as the King lunged for him, anger written upon his aged face. Gandalf thumped him with his staff, throwing the king back into the chair.

Thennil breathed a sigh of relief when the wizard backed away from the king. Moaning, Theoden slipped from his throne. Aragorn let go of the woman as she rushed towards the man, falling to her knees to catch him before he hit the floor. She held him in her arms, strong and steady as she watched him. Slowly, his eyes began to clear, and his hair! it changed from white strands clinging to his head to a great brown splendor, thick and short. His skin shrunk, and smoothed over his features as his beard diminished around his face, transforming back into that of a more youthful king. The woman smiled, her face filled with joy as the man looked about in confusion, then finding her face stopped.

"I-I know you,' he stated, then a smile lit up his face. 'Eoywn. Eowyn."

Turning, he looked around, and cocked his head when he came across the wizard. "Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend."

The king rose to his feet, holding Eowyn's hand as he did so, as if she would disappear if he let go. "Dark have been my dreams of late."

He looked down at his trembling hand, watching it shake.

Thennil smiled, stepping up to stand with the wizard. She had known Theoden in his youth, and was glad to see him restored back to his former self. "You fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword."

On of the men hurried forward, holding a sword in his hands, and held it out to the king reverently. The king slowly reached for it, curling his fingers around the hilt after so many years of disuse. Flexing, he drew out the blade, admiring it's length, gazing upon the steel as he felt his strength return. He turned to look at Grima, death in his eye.


	46. Chapter 44

Thennil watched from behind Gandalf as Grima was tossed from the carpet to the ground, rolling down the stairs. He cringed as he rose from the bottom step. His face was very white, and his snake-like eyes blinked in the sunlight. The King followed the worm down the steps, death written on his face as the greasy man begged before him.

"I have only ever served you, my lord!' he cried. 'It is as I feared. This wizard has bewitched you- he caught sight of Thennil, his eyes going to her pointed ears, and an evil light came into his eyes-this elf-witch has helped him!"

Thennil ignored the jab, rolling her eyes at the mans attempt to regain his place, but Aragorn became angered, and moved forward to grab the man. Gandalf put a hand out before him, stopping him in his tracks before he could do anything.

"If this is bewitchment,' said the king, 'it seems to me more wholesome than you whisperings. Your leechcraft would have me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

"Send me not from your sight." begged the man pitifully.

The king raised his sword high, ready to smit off the head of Grima. Aragorn, though he despised the man for his words about Thennil, knew that killing him would benefit them nothing, rushed forward, and grabbed the kings arm before he could move.

"No, my Lord! No, my lord. Let him go,' he looked the king in the eye. 'Enough blood has been spilt on his account.

Gandalf came forward, and Thennil with him glaring at the worm. "I think we do not fully understand the mind of Master Wormtongue,' said the wizard, glaring down upon the groveling man. 'He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw. Hours of my precious time he has wasted already. Down, snake!' he said suddenly in a terrible voice that had Thennil jumping in shock. 'Down on you belly! How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire? To long have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps while lusting after other women also."

Theoden struggled against Aragorn, knowing this to be true as his mind had been trapped within his body and Saruman had had control of it, he had still been aware of some things. He fumed at the man, his anger rising.

"Eowyn is safe now,' he said. 'But you, Wormtongue, you have done what you could for your true master. Some reward you have earned at least. Yet Saruman is apt to overlook his bargains. I should advise you to go quickly and remind him, lest he forget your faithful service."

Aragorn offered his hand to Grima, waiting for him to take it and rise. But the man gave him a look of distain and spit o nit, scrambling to his feet. Aragorn recoiled, shaking off the spittle in disgust as he wiped his hand upon his worn clothes. Grima pushed his way through the crowd, shouting and cursing as he ran from them, hoping to find some favor with his master.

Hama, turned to the king, and kneeling called out, 'Hail, Theoden king!"

The crowd slowly kneeled before the king, bowing their heads. Looking back and forth between those in the crowd, he turned to Aragorn who stood next to him. The ranger kneeled before the king, bowing his dark head in respect. Thennil walked up before the king, and offered him her sword, kneeling before him while bowing her head.

"Long have I looked after the people of this country, watched them grow from a small group of men and women to a nation,' she looked up at him once again, 'will you permit me to do so once again?"

The king looked down at her, observing her pointed ears, brilliant copper hair, and milky eye. His memories came flooding back, of a woman such as herself, battling along his father's men, an elf. Trewrun. "And I gladly consent. Welcome, Trewrun of Rohan."

She smiled, and bowed her head before him as he stood tall, turning to look at those behind him. Confusion blooms on his features.

"Where is Theodred? Where is my son?"

 **T** hennil stood straight and tall before the other women with Eowyn as they watched a group of soldiers slowly carry Theodred's body down the path. She could tell that the woman was having a hard time keeping her emotions in control as she watched the procession. Having witnessed many deaths herself, Thennil was able to mask her grief with a calm face, though her eyes told otherwise. She had witnessed more deaths in her long life than any of her kinsmen who dwelled in Imladris, and it pained her to have to witness the burial of such a young mortal. The pall-bearers slowly lowered the Prince, and passed his wicket between a bath of people to the women waiting within the tomb to receive him.

Eowyn began to sing, a chanting like song as the prince was slipped into his tomb.

 _'Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended_  
 _Giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde_  
 _Thæt he ma no wære, his dryhtne dyrest_  
 _And maga deorost Bealo'_

A few tears tracked their way down Eowyn's face as she watched her cousin's tomb be closed. She stood tall and slender, and it was in a rode of the deepest black that she wore; but strong she seemed and stern, though she was watching a chapter of her life come to an end. Her long golden hair was tied up in an ornate bun at the back of her head, a circlet resting on her brow. Fair she was, fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come.

Standing beside her, a few other women began to sing a lament for the fallen warrior, their voices mournful and sad as they sang. Thennil looked out over the plain, her mind remembering, it was when most of the people had stopped singing and had started to turn away that her own voice rose, singing a song from long ago.

" _Ahhhhhhahhhhhahhhahhh._

Nuair a thosaíonn an solas ag ciorrú,

Agus titim scáileanna ar fud na farraige,

Réal geal amháin i spéir na maidine,

Tugann solas do ghrá dom ar mo bhealach.

Tá aisling ann nach codladh,

Tá súil dóite nach bhfaighidh bás.

Mar sin ní mór dom dul anois leis an ghaoth,

Agus lig tú ag fanacht ar an taoide.

Am a eitilt, am chun an spéir a chaitheamh.

Guth amháin ina n-aonar - caoin haunting.

Amhrán amháin, réalta amháin a dhó geal,

Lig dom é a dhéanamh tríd an oíche is dorcha.

Tagann báistí thar na cnoic liath,

Agus ar an aer, slán bís.

Éist leis an amhrán a cheadaíonn mé duit,

Nuair a thagann an t-am chun eitilt.

Nuair a fhág mé agus an sciathán a ghlacadh,

Agus an talamh a thabharfaidh an chinniúint a fháil,

An réalta is gile ar spéir na maidine,

(An bhfuil do ghrá i bhfad uaim)

An bhfuil do ghrá ag fanacht i bhfad liom.

(OH) An bhfuil do ghrá ag fanacht i bhfad uaim..."

The people stood still, listening to the haunting voice of the elf. They could hear all the emotions, all the memories, and the dreams. Standing next Eowyn, she was a Lady in her own right. She had borrowed one of the White Lady's dresses, a deep blue, so dark it looked black. Her long hair, which had been braided back, had been let down, cascading down like a river of copper gold. She was not just beautiful physically, for she was, with her lithe figure, with a defined hour-glass shape uncommon among her people, it was a deeper beauty that they saw. It was her heart, her very fea that slipped through the cracks, surrounding her like a cloak.

She walked back up the hill, a few of the women nodding or curtsying to her as she went. Eowyn followed after her, looking back with pity in her eyes at the old king as he stood before the tomb, alone.

 **E** owyn hurried through the hall, ordering a meal to be prepared and served to their guests. Thennil could not eat, her appetite gone even though food had been little and far between on their journey running over the grass. She had stopped at the edge of the terrace above the capital, and looked out over the plains. After what seemed like an age. As her eyes wandered over the hills, she suddenly stopped. There, just beyond the path came a horse, wandering along. Peering closer, she gasped as she watched a young child slip to the ground. Picking up her skirts, she flew down the slops, shocking the people with her speed. Hair flying, skirts swirling, sleeves sailing behind her like flags flying in the wind, she leapt over the ground like an antelope. Running out the gate, she was down the path in an instant, catching up to Gandalf as he hurried towards the children. Dropping to her knees, she picked the boy up, cradling him in her arms.

"What is this?' she asked, standing as the boy struggled in her arms. She hushed him, whispering words in Sindarin as they hurried up to the keep.

"I do not know,' replied the wizard, as the king finally came out of his grief and joined them.

Upon entering the main hall, Eowyn joined her, taking the boy from her arms while she took the girl. Bath's were prepared, and clean clothes were found. Eowyn had little experience with children, but she made up for her lack of knowledge with smiles and complements, or telling stories. Thennil had been the one who bathed the children, having experienced this with her nieces and nephews. Bringing the children out into the main hall, she settled the girl down between her knees as she began to comb through the girls tangled mass of hair. The girl constantly was asking questions about different things, what this was or why did she have to wear that.

"Are you an elf?' the child finally asked after her hair was neat and tidy. She had turned to look up at the woman curious as ever.

Thennil smiled, smoothing a strand of the girls hair. "I am."

"So you've got pointed ears?"

"Freda!" her brother scolded from his seat at the table.

She stuck her tongue out at her brother. Thennil chuckled, drawing the girl closer as she pushed back her own mass of hair that was curled wildly about her. Freda gasped, and reached out to touch the pointed tip, causing Thennil to draw back a little. She had only ever had her father and mother touch her ears, as they were extremely sensitive to touch.

"They're so pretty,' babbled the girl. 'Do you think that I could have pointed ears when I grow up?"

"I think not, little one,' she chuckled. 'You'd have to be born an elf, it is not a common trait among men."

The girl pouted, crossing her arms. "But you will be beautiful without them."

The girl's frown changed into a small smile, looking over at Eowyn, "Do you think that I could be like Lady Eowyn?" she whispered.

"I think that you could be very much like Lady Eowyn,' Thennil whispered back. 'Now run along, their is a bowl of stew for you and your brother, eat up."

She stood and guided the girl over to the table, glancing over at the one at which her companions were seated, half finished bowls of stew scattered over the table. Aragorn watched her intently, his gaze never wavering from her as she helped the children, asking them questions about what had happened to them. Eowyn was able to get much out of the boy, who had seen more than his sister.

"They had no warning. They were unarmed,' she told her uncle in frustration. 'Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold burning as they go."

The white lady turned from the children, picking up a shawl to drape around the girl's shoulders. "Rick, cot and tree."

"Where's mama?' asked the child, as if just realizing that her mother was not there. Her lip began to tremble.

"Hush, child,' Thennil comforted, rubbing her hand in soothing circles on the child's back.

Gandalf turned to the king, sighing as he watched the children inhale their food as quickly as they could, asking for more. "This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on."

The wizard leaned forward, putting his wrinkled hand on the kings chair. Theoden observed him warily, his gaze flicking back and forth between him and the children.

"Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight." Encouraged the wizard.

Aragorn looked up from the table, chewing on his pipe as he let out a puff of smoke. He raised his voice to be heard across the small space between the king and himself. "You have two-thousand good men riding north as we speak. Homer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Theoden shook his head, rising from his throne and walking about the center of the room thinking aloud. "They will be three-hundred leagues fro her by now,' he paused, looking around him. 'Eomer cannot help us."

Gandalf walked down towards the king, Thennil joining him, feeling the need to entreat him. The king held up his hand, halting them. "I know what it is that you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

Aragorn removed the pipe from his mouth after another draw, tapping out the ashes and pocketing the thing. "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."

The whole room twisted to look at the ranger. Eowyn spun, her mouth hung open at the direct disrespect shown to her uncle, challenging him. Theoden paused, his body stiff as he turned to look at Aragorn, indignant. Thennil moved closer to the ranger, as did her companions, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

"When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

"Then what is you decision, My Lord?' she asked, looking up at him.

 **"By** order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need." came the heralds voice through the city, echoing off every house and stable.

Thennil had changed from her dress into her cleaned tunic and trousers, her hair tied back in a long braid. She had received a few strange looks from the men and women, but after seeing her with the other 'Runners' as they had been dubbed after telling their tale, she had ignored her strange dress. Gimli walked beside her, looking at all the preparation that the people were making, strapping things to horses or loading them in carts.

"Helm's Deep. They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight,' huffed the dwarf."

Coming upon the stables, they continued walking through, observing the men ready their steeds. They were pulling on armor, strapping their swords to their hips and plates to the horses foreheads.

"Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people,' spoke Aragorn after a time. 'Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

Gandalf stopped at Shadowfax's stall, reaching up a hand to pet the horse as he looked over at the ranger.

"There is no way out of that ravine,' she spoke, thinking of the place she had visited with her friends among Brego's household when they had first started the building of the stronghold. 'He is walking into a trap."

"Aye,' said Gandalf. 'He thinks he's leading them to safety; what they will get is a massacre."

Thennil shuddered, remembering the death of her warriors in the battle against the Witch King long ago. They wouldn't be dying if she had anything to do with it. She had given her word, and she would use any path possible to ensure that they would make it through. She just hoped that she would not have to use her powers, as it would weaken her to the point where she became a liability.

"Theoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan,' Thennil glared at the wizard. 'Not that I think that you will not do your duty, but there are some things that should remain hidden.' he raised an eyebrow, then turned to Aragorn, 'He will need you before the end. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

The man held the wizards gaze, and it was in that moment that Thennil realized that he would not just be a king, but he would be a formidable one.

"They will hold."

The wizard nodded, stroking the horses head again, muttering to himself. "The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time."

Thennil helped Aragorn open the stall door as the wizard mounted the _Meara_ , and walked him out of the stall. They followed as he cantered to the entrance to the stables, leaning down under the doorframe. His grey robes rustled around him as he looked about him.

"With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at the first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east." He nudged the horse.

"Go!"

The wizard urged the horse on, speeding through the city and down the path to the gate. They could see his white hair above all the gold of the Rohirrim, flashing brightly in the sun as he sped across the plains and out of sign.

 **T** heoden had wanted to gift each of them with something from his house for their help in releasing him from the spell that Saruman had soon over him. To Aragorn and Legolas were given shining mail. Helms they were given to, and round shields: their bosses were overlaid with gold and set with gems, green and red and white. Gimli needed no coat of rings, even if one had been found to match his stature, for there was no hauberk in the hoards of Edoras of better make than his short corset forged beneath the Mountain in the North. But he chose a cap of iron and leather that fitted well upon his round head; and a small shield he also took. It bore the running horse white upon green that was the emblem of the House or Eorl.

Thennil was gifted with a lovely dagger, with a green stone for it's handle carved into a horse-head. She smiled, wondering if the tales about her had said anything about the insane amount of weapons she carried. She had taken the dagger and immediately added it to her collection after taking a few practice swings at Legolas, who humored her as she slashed at him.

 **W** andering among the people gathering things up from the Great Hall and carrying them out, Thennil watched as Eowyn packed her own things in a chest. It did not surprise her when the young woman pulled out a sheathed sword. Unsheathing it, the woman held it before her, running her hand up and down the flat side of the blade, smiling. Curious, she continued to watch from the shadows as the woman began to practice swinging her blade. Catching a flash of movement behind Eowyn, Thennil smiled as he crept up upon the woman, who spun around and swung at whomever was behind her. Her ranger met the swing with a dagger, looking intently into Eowyn's eyes as it stays stern.

"You have some skill with a blade."

With a swift move, Eowyn swung her sword, throwing Aragorn's arm and knife to one side, rendering him vulnerable and gaining the upper hand over him. He slowly lowered his weapon, nodding to her as she did likewise. Both stepped away from the other, Eowyn turning to examine her blade as she did so.

"Women of this country learned long ago; those without swords may still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain." she resheathed the sword, replacing it in the chest.

"What do you fear my Lady?"

The white lady froze, then turned slowly to look at the ranger, then replied gravely. "A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. All chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

Aragorn shook his head in wonder, this woman was complex, like pealing away a layer of onion only to find that the next is just as big, or bigger than the one before. "You're a daughter of kings, a shield maiden of Rohan." he sheathed his knife, looking at her with interest. 'I do not think that will be your fate."

Eowyn gazed after him as he bows, unable to respond. Her heart thumped in her chest as she watched him stride away, his legs long, his shoulders broad. There was a longing in her eyes.

Thennil turned from the scene, slipping out of the hall and around the back to the rear exit. She went and leaned against one of the pillars there, sliding down against it, back to the door as she looked up at the sky.

"Please,' she whispered to the breeze, closing her eyes. 'I love him."

"I never thought that I'd hear those words from your mouth,' a deep voice stated from off to her right. She jumped, twisting to look at the voice, her gut clenching.

There stood Aragorn, the sun shining down on him as he watched her. His pipe was nowhere to be found, and his arms were cross over his chest, making his muscles stand out in the light. His stubble had been trimmed up, though his still looked scruffy, and his hair, washed. Though he wore the clothes that they had been gifted at Lothlorien, he had the mail that Theoden had given him on. Every day he looked more and more like the king that he was, becoming more confident, more certain of himself.

"I-

He drew near, sliding to his knees before her, taking her hands in his own. Looking deep into her sapphire eyes he smiled as she watched his own silvery-blue. There were so many emotions swirling in his eyes, love, hope, joy, and sadness. Reaching up a hand, she pushed back a few strands of his hair, touching his face with her fingertips. She had done that many times as he had grown. He let her trace his face, over his eyebrows, down his cheekbones, his prominent nose, and lips. She shuddered, looking down at their entwined hands.

"Did you not know?' he asked. 'Did you not know that I love you?"

She couldn't answer, leaning into his shoulder as he drew her to his chest. He combed through her hair as she breathed in his scent.

"I knew, but I did not believe.' She whispered. 'I know that Arwen loves you-he started to chuckle-and I could never get in the way of her happiness.' he began to laugh louder.

Drawing back she glared at him, "What?"

"It only amazes me that even with your amazing elven sight that you would not see what was truly before you,' he chuckled.

"What are you talking about?"

He shook his head. "Did you not understand all of the gifts that I gave you? Why I had you hold on to my ring? The one I gave you?"

"I don't know! I always thought that once you grew, figured out who you were, that you would leave. That I would be all alone. Or that you would continue to be with Arwen!"

He laughed again, pulling her away to look into her eyes. "I never loved Arwen, Thennil."

She stilled, jaw dropping. "What-but-you-

"It was the first crush of a boy who knew nothing about the world around him,' he said. 'As I learned about the world about me, and how to defend it, I lost interest in you sister."

"But why? She's beautiful, refined, make a lovely Queen."

"Because she wasn't you. She didn't understand enough to care about the people who were defending her haven from the evil. You cared. You fought for them. Protected them."

"But I'm broken,' she cried. 'I have scars, ones that will not ever go away. I'm blind. I have a temper."

He shook his head. "We are all broken pieces until we find one another, my love.' he caressed her hair. 'And your temper is not as bad as you say."

She raised an eyebrow.

"It's not."

"Whatever,' she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled her into a tighter embrace, kissing her hair. "I will love you forever and always."

"And my heart has always been yours." she whispered, closing her eyes.

 **YEY! They've confessed! And no, not all romance has kissing or making out, ;p**

 **I've created my elves to be very pure, so while they might hold hands, kiss at times, or embrace intimately, it does not mean they approach their sex lives like humans tend to do now. Being intimate is extremely sacred to their people, and only happens after they've been betrothed for a year or so.**

 **I also struggle with writing any scenes that include kissing or any form of sex. Kissing is much easier to write, but I do not write sex scenes, so fantasize all you want. There will be no such scenes, though I may mention that it 'happened'.**

 **Here is the translation of Eowyn's song:**

 **An evil death has set forth the noble warrior**  
 **A song shall sing the sorrowing minstrels of mead-halls**  
 **That he is no more, to his Lord dearest**  
 **And kinsman beloved, death [took him]...**

 **Here is the translation of the Irish song, A Soft Goodbye by Celtic Woman:**

 **When the light begins to fade,**

 **And shadows fall across the sea,**

 **One bright star in the morning sky,**

 **Your love's light leads me on my way.**

 **There's a dream that will not sleep,**

 **A burning hope that will not die.**

 **So I must go now with the wind,**

 **And leave you waiting on the tide.**

 **Time to fly, time to touch the sky.**

 **One voice alone - a haunting cry.**

 **One song, one star burning bright,**

 **Let it carry me through darkest night.**

 **Rain comes over the grey hills,**

 **And on the air, a soft goodbye.**

 **Hear the song that I sing to you,**

 **When the time has come to fly.**

 **When I leave and take the wing,**

 **And find the land that fate will bring,**

 **The brightest star in the morning sky,**

 **(Is your love far from me)**

 **Is your love waiting far for me.**

 **(oh) Is your love waiting far from me...**

 **Robin**


	47. Important Note

**Hey Everyone! So, you're not going to like the news I've got...**

 **I'm putting All Who Wander Are Not Lost, on hold.**

 **Yeah, I know. Why? Why? WHY, Am I doing this?**

 **Well, it's really been taking over my life, and I need to get my focus back, and to do that I need to put the story to rest, so to speak. I need to be studying harder for my classes and not spending all my time on the computer writing, which has made me somewhat of a bum...So yeah, just refocusing. I'm not sure when I'll be posting again, which is why I posted all the chapters that I did have written, but I hope that I'll be back on track in a few months.**

 **I'm so sorry! So please, review, let me know what you think of each chapter that you read, but please, please, PLEASE! don't pester me for another chapter. I will write when I know that it won't interfere with my day to day life.**

 **To all my devoted reviewers and readers,**

 **Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review, it really did make a difference! I loved so many of your comments, and found many of the conversations that we had through messages intriguing.**

 **Farewell for now!**

 **Robin**


	48. Chapter 45

**So, Dear Readers. I'm back!**

With the sun nearing the westering as the rode out from Edoras, and the light blazing in their eyes, turning all the rolling hills and fields of Rohan to a golden haze, the great host that was the Rohirrim carried on. They followed the beaten way, north-westward along the foot-hills of the White Mountains, up and down the green country, crossing small, yet swift streams by many fords. Far ahead to their right loomed the rising peaks of the Misty Mountains; growing ever darker by the day as the miles went by.

The great line of travelers walked on. Need drove them, and fear.

Within the midst of the large line rode Thennil upon the back of a borrowed horse from the stables of the King, Urial. The war-horse was built like a wall of hard muscle, and had an attitude to match. He was a proud animal, holding his head high and ears flicking back and forth, alert to all that went on around him. He reminded her of the intelligent horses that were common among her own people, seeming to almost be able to talk.

Trotting along, she tried to avoid looking at Aragorn as much as possible, but couldn't help stealing a glance now and then as they moved along. It still amazed,(and terrified her at the same time), that he had confessed his love to her. It was like she had found a part of herself that she never knew was really missing, a love that she never thought could be real. She knew that love was out there, she had always assumed it might happen someday, but knew that with her work it was the least likely thing to happen. Relationships and battles do not might well. She had seen how it had torn people apart, seen how devastated it left the other half alone after the warrior died. Her people only fell in love once, and lived a long life together until sailing to the undying lands, but living in Arda was not safe by any means for a warrior. She had seen many elves be brought back on a bloodied shield, only to have their love fade or sail shortly after. She had promised herself that she would never let that happen, that she would never leave someone in that position.

And here she was, getting herself into that exact position.

 _I can't believe that I'm actually doing this,_ she thought, steering Urial around a group of rambunctious children. _But Aragorn is doing the same thing, so is it really that bad?_ She wondered, picking at the hem of her tunic.

"Thennil, stop being an idiot," she mumbled to herself as she caught up with Gimli, "Love and relationships aren't easy."

She had seen physical evidence of that between Tauriel and Kili, who came from different worlds, with different beliefs about how life should look. While she had laughed at some of their arguments at the time, she could see how true the saying "Love isn't found, it's built" was. Kili and Tauriel loved each other, but it had taken them years to learn to work together with their differing opinions. They had struggled with the littlest things, had arguments that had the whole population of Erebor running for the hills afraid that another dragon was descending upon the mountain, and refused to speak to one another for almost a month. But they had pulled through together for the better.

She began to hum under her breath as they travelled on, one that she had written after her mother had passed over the water.

"Shadows fall,

And hope has fled,

Steel your heart,

Hope is not dead,

The dawn will come.

The night is long,

And the path is dark,

Look to the sky,

For one day soon,

The Dawn will come.

The Wanderer is lost,

And his home is far,

Keep to the stars,

The Dawn will come.

The night is long,

And the path is dark,

Look to the sky,

For one Day soon,

The Dawn will come,

Bare your Blade,

And raise it high,

Stand your ground,

The dawn will come,

The night is long,

And the path so dark,

Look to the sky,

for the morning light,

For the Dawn will come."

The night closed about them, the sun waining in the sky. At last they halted, gathering in tight circles upon the western plain. They lit no fires, for Theoden was uncertain of the events that had befallen them, and wanted to make them as inconspicuous as possible. He set a ring of mounted guards about them, and scouts rode farther ahead, passing like a flickering shadow over the folds of the land. Children huddled beneath their mothers watchful eyes, closing their eyes and drifting off to sleep; men paced the edges of their campsites, looking out over the rolling hills and up into the dark sky at the twinkling stars that were covered in a misty darkness. The night passed slowly without tidings or alarm, and at dawn the horns sounded loud and deep, calling them to wake.

Thennil rode alongside Legolas behind the company, both of them whispering about the area and the threats that might come upon them. He argued that they needed to ask Theoden to send out more scouts, while she stated that it would be better to have the warriors close at hand in case something did end up happening. Back and forth they bickered in loud whispers, and Thennil could almost feel Aragorn smirking from in front of her and she same his shoulders shaking, which Legolas noticed. Rolling her eyes she glared at his leather clad back as they followed the line, he wasn't helping her case.

"We don't need to send out more scouts,' she hissed, 'You have keen eyes and they can tell a sparrow from a finch a league off. Tell me why we need more scouts when we could ride along the tops of the ridges and do that ourselves?"

"It would be better to send out scouts so that we could stay here with those less experienced in warfare,' he challenged.

"Uhh,' she sighed, running her hand through her hair, 'That is besides the point, numbers do have some weight when it comes to battle my friend."

"But experience outweighs numbers."

"Not if it's against a band of Urks!"

"Enough you two!" Aragorn snapped, groaning inwardly.

They snapped up to look at them, both sets of eyes blazing.

"You're acting like two year olds fighting over the same toy,' he stated, guiding his horse between them, he turned to look at Legolas, 'Though I do have to agree with Thennil's idea, there is something to be said with having strength in numbers."

The elf threw his hands up in the air, "I don't know why I bother arguing with you, I never have a chance of winning."

She chuckled, anger cooling, 'I don't know, maybe it's because I'm half a mellenia older than you?"

"Not the age thing again,' groused the elf, smoothing back his long blond locks.

"Yep, still older,' she smirked while Aragorn's laughter suddenly grew silent.

He nudged his horse forward, trotting closer to Gimli's horse that Eowyn was leading. She glanced at Legolas, cocking her head to once side in a momentary confusion. Then she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. He was seriously going to pull away because of that?

Urging Urial into a soft canter, she pulled up to Aragorn, and grabbed his hand subtly. As she gripped his hand she rubbed small circles on his wrist. He tried to pull away, twisting his hand out from her firm grip. Yanking on his arm, she looked up into his silvery blue eyes.

"We are not going to do this, alright?"

He didn't smile, his face blank of emotions, but his eyes betrayed his fear. She gulped, knowing that the next words out of her mouth would have some sort of an impact on him.

"Love is not limited to age, Aragorn, and my heart is not something that is so easily returned to me,' she looked out over the sea of people trailing before and behind them, 'It is not limited to race or color. It is only limited by what you are willing to give."

He nodded, squeezing her hand to show that he understood.

He looked over her sorrowfully, "Even if it be forbidden love?"

"Forbidden or not, I am the one who holds my heart, and it is my choice upon whom I shall bestow it's treasure. My choice was made long ago,' she whispered, 'but I bear it willingly."

Aragorn grew grim as she continued, perhaps reliving some memory from the past, or one that might become his future. He did not speak, and there seemed to be no hope in his eyes.

" _Garhartha*,_ Aragorn."

"I try."

And so the second day of their trek drew on, the heaviness in the air increased steadily. Thennil could feel it pushing down upon her, an unwelcome burden upon her shoulders. In the afternoon the dark clouds began to overtake them, a canopy of great heavy clouds flecked with dazzling light. The sun sank further into the west, blood-red in a smoking haze. The spears of the Riders were tipped with fire as the rays of light kindled the steep faces of the peaks of Thrihyrne: now very near they stood to the westernmost arm of the White Mountains, three jagged horns staring at the coming sunset.

 **"It's** true you don't see many dwarf women,' Gimli spoke down to Eowyn, laughing quietly to himself, 'And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that they're often mistaken for Dwarf Men."

The woman turned to look back at those following along behind them, smiling as her eyes sought out Aragorn and Thennil from among the throngs of people. Thennil cocked her head to one side and pointed to her chin as Aragorn pretended to pull a long beard away from his chin, trying to be serious. Eowyn shushed him as his laughter grew, and Thennil threw a hand over Aragorn's mouth with a playful glare.

"And this, in turn,' continued Gimli obliviously, 'has given rise to the belief that there are no Dwarf women, and that the Dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground..."

Eowyn laughed loudly at that, having a hard time imagining little harry men popping up out of the stones all over the mountains.

"Which is of course ridiculous, seeing as many people have met our-Ahhh!"

The horse reared up, startled by something upon the ground and whipped it's head around. Eowyn tried yanking on the reigns, but they slipped through her fingers as the horse bolted over the uneven ground, galloping through the throng of people who fled out of it's crazed path with cries of alarm. Gimli's short legs weren't able to hold on to the large barrel chest of the horse and he found himself flying through the air and dropping into the dirt like a sack of potatoes. Rushing forward, Eowyn tried to help the struggling dwarf to his feet as he flailed around like a turtle on its back.

"It's all right.' stated the dwarf in his humiliation, ' Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate."

Thennil chuckled into her hood, 'Yep, the horse deliberately threw him."

Theoden shook his head as he rode beside the two, a small smile forming on his face as he laughed at the dwarves predicament. He glanced over at Aragorn.

"I haven't seen my niece smile for a long time. She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by Orcs. She watched her mother succumb to grief."

The kings face grew dark, mournful as he watched his niece brush the dwarf off, laughing all the while. "Then she was left alone, to tend her king in growing fear. Doomed to wait upon an old man who should have loved her as a father."

Thennil reached out and touched the kings arm, "It was those experiences that make her the woman she is today,' the king looked up, grief evident in his eyes. 'even if they were unpleasant, she is stronger because of them. Strong enough to stand like a tree digging it's roots deep into the earth. Even when the storms come, and the winds rage, and times get tough, I have no doubt that she will be one of those left standing."

Theoden nodded, looking her over with a little awe, "I have been told of the wisdom of elves, and that of the Galadriel, but I did not think that I would hear it from one of their lips in my lifetime."

She shook her head, "I don't know if I would call it wisdom, more like speaking from experience."

 **T** hennil scouted through the tall grass she gathered herbs to add to their dinner that night. Theoden had reluctantly allowed fire to be lit when they stopped for the night because of all the women pestering them about hot meals. Kneeling down, she began digging up the roots of a wild carrot plant. After harvesting a large amount, she shoved them into her sack and began to make her way back to the camp, picking up herbs on her way as she found them. Slipping among the women, she added her findings to the pile of raw food. Many of the women sat wearily around the fire, pealing or chopping the vegetables.

Walking over the the pot hanging over the fire, Thennil sniffed the contents, and swiped her finger over the top, sticking it into her mouth. She schooled her feature into an unreadable expression at the flavor. It was bland. Digging through her satchel she pulled for the herbs she collected and turned to the elderly woman who seemed to be in charge.

"Would you mind if I added a few of these to flavor the stew?" she asked tentatively.

The woman looked up at her, the wrinkles on her face pulling back from around her eyes as she stared in surprise. "I, umm, well, sure."

Thennil grinned, "Well I'm at it, why don't you take a break. I can finish chopping those potatoes for you."

"Nonsense,' glared the woman, 'It'll be my dying day if I'm not even capable of pealing my own potatoes!"

"Forgive me,' Thennil cringed, 'I just thought you might want to see how your grandchildren might be doing."

The woman's eyebrows shot even farther up, almost meeting her hairline. "How did you know I have grandchildren?"

"I saw you walking with them early today, when we first started out."

"Oh."

"They looked like they were running their mother into the ground with their antics,' she chuckled.

The woman began to laugh, 'I wouldn't doubt it, Arthur and Oma are quite the troublemakers."

Looking out across the crowds of people, the woman smiled when she saw a group of children running about and roughhousing. She glanced at Thennil, then back to the group of arms and legs. Twisting the knife around, she placed the handle into Thennil's hand, slowly standing to her feet, old bones creaking. After taking only a few steps, she turned around to look Thennil in the eye.

"The name is Olga."

"Thennil."

Olga nodded, and continued on to the group of children, catching two by the ear and dragging them away from the rowdy group and over to a few blankets. Thennil smirked softly as the other women chuckled at the squeals and whining of the two as their grandmother brushed through their hair and made them help clean up their things.

Over the course of the next hour she chopped vegetables, added herbs to the stew, and kneaded dough along with the other women. They had cleaned off stones, brushing off the dirt and laying them around and in the fire. Taking the dough, Thennil flattened many pieces with her hand until each one was almost as long as her foot before laying them on the heated stones. It didn't take long for the mixture of flour, water, and a pinch of salt to rise and cook. Using her fingers she flipped them over, cursing in elvish when she burned her fingers on the hot bread.

She chatted with the women, asking about their children, or grandchildren in some cases, but mostly the conversation centered around cooking. Many of the ladies were amazed that the elves didn't eat meat often, but greens at every dinner. A few even teased one another that it was the secret to youth, eating only vegetables. Thennil chuckled, and assured them that no, it wasn't the greens, but eating a balanced diet with little meat agreed with their elvish digestive systems more than a meat and potato kind of diet.

"So,' one of the younger women piped up, a golden haired girl who looked like she was just over the cusp of womanhood, 'Do elves grow beards?"

Thennil paused, her hand stilling as she stirred the pot of stew before spooning some out for Gimli who had plopped down by the fire a few minutes before looking a little green. She paged through her memory, pulling up images of people in her head before one of her father's oldest friends flew to the front of her mind.

"Cirdan has a beard,' she said, ladling a generous amount into Gimli's bowl. She handed it to him with a crude wooden spoon.

"Who was he?"

"He is a Telerin Elf, one of the few left that still dwell in Middle Earth, he is the Shipwright, and lives in the Grey Havens," she replied, spooning more of the stew into a smaller pot that she had heated over the fire.

"Is? He's still alive?"

"Yes, and very old, older even than Galadriel of the Golden Wood,' Thennil said, setting a few bowls and spoons into her satchel to hand out.

"She's really old, or at least that's what the legends say."

"How old are you Thennil?"

Thennil chuckled, slipping between the women and into the dying sunset.

Weaving her way through the people, she stops now and again handing out bowls to the men. Legolas pops up beside her and takes on of the bowls from her hand, snatching a spoonful from the pot before she can give anyone else some. As he spooned the stew into his bowl she twisted away from him, glaring over her shoulder.

"You could have asked!"

"True, but there might not have been any left,' he said siping from the edge of the bowl, closing his eyes with pleasure, 'We haven't had food this good since Sam cooked for us."

They both froze, looking each other in the eye. "I'm sure that they're getting along fine." _I hope._

They both nod, turning away to look over the south, and the darkening skies. Silently they watch the darkness, apprehension building in their hearts. Turning swiftly away, she grabbed the ladle from his dangling fingers and forced a smile onto her face before hurrying through the crowds.

Walking among the chatting people her sharp ears picked up on a high voice speaking, shocked.

"You are one of the Dunedain?"

Whipping her head around, Thennil spotted Aragorn sitting upon a stone, looking up at Eowyn. He nodded his head.

"A descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend." She continued in awe.

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago," Aragorn looked away to the dirt at his feet, and she could imagine a great weight coming to settle on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry,' she said, and nodded to the soup, 'Please eat, and I will leave you in peace."

Thennil tried not to laugh as aragorn nodded, slowly spooning whatever was in the bowl into his mouth. He smiled, but it came out as more of a grimace. Eowyn grinned brightly, a twinkle in her eye as she seemed to dance away through the resting travelers. Creeping up behind the ranger, she took extra precaution to be quiet. When she was but a few feet from him she leapt forward and pushed his shoulder sharply.

"Bah!" she cried loudly in his ear.

He tumbled forward, spilling his soup, a look of utter disbelief on his face as he snapped around to look at her.

Setting the pot down, she doubled over in laughter. Her eye began to tear up as he continued to shake his head, blinking a few times.

"I-hahaha-cannot believe-hahaheeheee-that you couldn't sense me approaching!' she covered her mouth and leaned back on her heals. 'You're face is priceless!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, righting himself and grabbing the now empty bowl of stew. She only chuckled more, seating herself next to him.

"It wasn't that bad,' she teased, rolling her eyes at him, 'and I got rid of whatever mess you were given."

He sighed, 'Even for all your years and wisdom, you still have childish moments."

"Maybe I have them because they help you loosen up?" she teased, bumping his shoulder hesitantly.

"Whatever,' he sniffed the air, and turned to the pot that she had brought with her, raising his eyebrow. 'What's this?"

"Dinner, if you want some,' she said, spooning herself a bowl, siping the still hot liquid over the rim.

He smiled, snatching the pot from under her nose and eating right out of it, a merry spark in his eyes. She huffed, and continued to eat her stew, watching as the camp settled down over the hills, sharp eye picking out the guards patrolling along the edges. Together they watched the sun fade behind the mountains, and the stars and moon rise in the dark skies. He rests a hand on her knee, squeezing it gently. As he rubbed soothing circles on it through the cloth she closed her eyes, leaning against his shoulder.

 ** _"Our time here is ending. Your time is ending, Thennil. You must let go of all the friendships that you have here. Go with Lindor when he takes the ship into the west. Bear your love away into the Undying Lands. There it will ever be green."_**

 ** _"But my love will only ever be a memory," she said, looking up into her father's silver eyes._**

 ** _"I will not leave you here to die!"_**

 ** _"I stay because I have hope! Hope for a brighter future for those who would remain!" she challenged, eyes flashing._**

 ** _He shook his head at her, sadness blooming in his ancient eyes. She turned from him, slipping out of the room without a word._**

Thennil fingered her pendent, thinking of all those she had known, who had passed on before her. Fighting for a better Middle Earth. Her thoughts going every which way, she closed her eye as she thought of the ring, hoping that Frodo and Sam were getting closer to Mount Doom without trouble. She could feel the darkness growing, quicker than it had ever before, and she worried. She knew that she was dying. She also knew that if she abandoned the quest, abandoned these people, abandoned Aragorn and the love that had slowly blossomed, and sailed that she would be able to save herself. But she knew that it would be cowardly to leave them all to this fate that she had seen in the mirror. Her sister would argue with her, telling her that is wasn't cowardly to save herself, that she was worth more than anything in the world, but she was wrong. One life could change the course of this war, this great battle. And if she was dying anyway, why not do it for a worthy cause?

 **Thennil** helped a group of women over the rock ridge, guiding them up and over the jagged stones. She listened to their chatter as they hurried along, smiling at the simplicity. Hama gallops past on his horse, a worried look on his face as if he can sense something. Around her the animals nicker and dance, their ears and eyes flicking this way and that. Standing still, she closes her eyes and lets the noises around her fade away. In the darkness of her mind she sends out tendrils of golden light, seeking answers. Farther and farther she stretched, feeling a growing danger in her mind. Then she was being pulled out of the darkness back into the world around her as the world came whirling back into focus. Ears twitching, she heard yelling, a scream. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she tenses, whistling for Urial. The horse galloped up, swinging up onto his back she urged him on towards the sounds of snarling. Cresting the nest ridge, she pulled Urial to a stop as Legolas wipes black blood on the grass beside an orc corpse. He glared over the terrain.

"A scout!"

"We are under attack!"

Turning she hears the frightened screams of the people, reduced to a blind panic as they hurry over the rocks back towards Edoras. Theoden called out to his riders, forming a unified group. She could feel Urials' eagerness as he pawed the ground, the muscles in his back flexing as he danced. Around the boulders they galloped, spears gleaming in the sunlight, hair flying out behind them from under their helmets. She could hear the snarls and growls of the wargs as they ran over the hills, their unwashed sent reaching her nose. Dust rose in the air, and she knew that this was no small host of orcs and wargs. The Rohorrim flag flies in the wind, the white horse looking as if it was running over hills of rolling green as they hurried forward. Her heart raced, beating wildly in her chest as she steadied her hands, releasing the reigns so that Urial would be able to move freely while she battled. Glancing to he left, she caught Aragorn's eye, and for a second it was as if time had frozen and it was just the two of them across the great distance.

 _Melin, Estel._ She mouthed across the space.

Then the swords were drawn, shining in the sun. Their voices came together in one cry as they collided with the enemy. After that it was kill or be killed. Thennil let Urial do the directing, guiding her along the ground towards the orcs. Her sword flashed in and out, beheading and orc here, blocking a jagged sword there. From her blind side a great riderless warg rushed upon them, knocking Urial off his feet. Tumbling to the ground, she rolled with the fall, landing on her feel with practiced ease. Around her she could here the thrum of battle, dark and powerful as it beat across the hills. Pulling her shield from where it was hooked on her back, she turned to face the enemy.

The warg was an ugly one, not that any of them were pretty to look at, but it had more gruesome qualities. For one, it was missing and ear, and it's face was majorly deformed, twisted into a cynical grin as it prowled closer. It yipped at her, gnashing it's teeth, blood already dripping from it's open jaws. They began to circle one another, and she concluded that it liked to play with it's prey before killing it. She waited, watching it with sharp eyes, glancing around every few seconds to watch for other threats.

It was during one of these brief glances that the warg pounced. Leaping out of the way, she ducked under it's swipe. She lunged forward, slashing at it's throat as she dropped her sword and pulled off her bow, stringing an arrow and shooting it. It thunked into it's target, an orc that had bee creeping up on Gimli as he lay pinned beneath the dead weight of a warg. As she ran through the chaos of battle to him, she looked frantically around for her friends, Aragorn at the forefront of her mind. Before she spotted him, she was yanked to the ground. Crying out in surprise, she tripped over her feet to the ground, pinning her arm in an odd angle in the process. She twisted around, kicking the orc in it's dark face with her booted foot angrily. In front of her she can hear Gimli's erratic breathing and that of a panting warg. She struggles with the Orc, who seems to have no more weapons on himself other than his bare hands. These he latches onto her slender throat, squeezing as she reaches up with her hands, clawing at her face. Getting her legs under her, she pushes up on his belly with her feet, sending him flying through the air.

Vaulting up, she grabbed one of her many daggers and threw it at the orc. It stilled as she sighed with relief. Plucking her bow from the ground, she scans the plains. Wargs and orcs alike retreat over the hills, the Riders following closely behind, dispatching them. She wiped her hands on her tunic, the dark black blood staining her already dirty clothes more. Sniffing, she gagged at the smell of the blood on her body, most of which was not her own. Checking herself over quickly, she found that there were only a few scratches on her face, one of which dripped annoyingly into her eye. Swiping at it with her sleeve, she retraced her steps back to where she had dropped her sword in her rush to save Gimli. She found it stuck into the shoulder of one of the warg carcasses, and grimaced. She was normally picky about who touched her blades, but if it had saved someones life she wasn't about to pick a bone with them.

She wandered around the area, taking down a few more orcs that had tried to slip away, looking for Urial. She found him in the possession of one of the riders, who handed the reigns off to her with a nod. As she searched the area for other threats her eyes came to settle on Legolas and Gimli looking over the edge of one of the cliffs. Hurrying forward she smiled softly, they had been victorious!

"Legolas! Gimli!" she called, catching their attention.

They turned, and she sensed that something was wrong. Dropping the reigns she clasped Legolas on the shoulder, looking around them for Aragorn. Her brow wrinkled as she searched the men that walked by them, then back up at the duo. Dread bubbled in her heart.

"Legolas..." she glanced between them uncertainly.

 **So, dearlings, I'm back after a pretty long** **hiatus. It was much needed. I was able to sort out my life a little more, kicked College in the butt, and am going to be getting A's in all my classes. For those of you who noticed, I said that we had gotten a dog before my hiatus, and boy has he grown! He's tripled in size and still growing. There has been a ton of training going on, so that has taken up a lot of time.**

 **I'm hoping to be able to post on a weekly basis, hoping.**

 **Love ya all! And thank you so much for staying with me thus far, it's been a rollercoaster of a ride!**

 **Robin**


	49. Chapter 46

Numb.

She couldn't feel anything. Her mind had shut down. The reigns were limp within her hand as Urial trotted along with the rest of the Riders. Her eyes were empty, void of ever emotion.

When Legolas and Gimli had told her of his fall, she had stared blankly at them, disbelieving. She had nearly lost him once, and could conceive how it could happen again. She had stood over the cliff, staring down into the raging waters of the river below, eyes dead. Clouds had begun to gather in the sky, and a cruel wind blew over the hills. No words came to her lips as she watched the water flow by. No song celebrating and mourning his death came to her mind. His life, which had held so much promise, snuffed out in an instant.

Looking up to the mountains, she had let a tear escape from her eye, slipping down her face as she touched the necklace around her neck, fingers clasping it tightly. Legolas had guided her away, up onto Urial's back, squeezing her shoulder in sympathy. Raising her eyes she had asked without words if it was really true. He had only stared down at her, anger, confusion, and disbelief welling up in his blue pools.

Cresting a rise, the group paused for but a moment, looking into the Westfold Vale to the gorge where Helm's Deep resided. Many sighed with relief, urging their horses on down the hill with greater speed. Following the trail of Riders, they hurried up the path to the gate. The soldiers pulled the gate open with a loud creak, and the riders hurried inside. Thennil had to pull herself out of her stuper to avoid running over anyone on the crowded road. It looked like all of Rohan had fled to the Deep, children running here and there, babies wailing, old men sitting on the ground wearily watching the Riders go by. Soldiers manned the battlements, walking up and down the length, watching over the wall.

"Make way for the King!" Gamlings voice echoes off the stone walls, and the people jump to the side to avoid being in the way. Up the roads they trotted, people moving out of the way and watching them as they flew by. Many stared on after them in confusion and shock, catching sight of both Legolas and Thennil's ears, and Gimli's extremely short stature. They turned to look at one another in awe, whispering.

"Make Way for Theoden! Make way for the King!" Gamlings voice came again as they came up to the stairs. Theoden pulls his horse to a stop, dismounting as Eowyn rushes up from one side, looking worriedly over the warriors.

"So few,' she worried, looking over her Uncle as he avoids her eyes, 'So few of you have returned."

He looks about them at the people gathered, 'Our people are safe."

The King turned to help on of the soldiers down from his mount, the man leaning heavily on him and clutching his arm to his chest.

"We have paid for it with many lives."

Thennil dismounted from her horse, taking Urial's head in her hands and laying her own against his neck. She slowly pets up and down his muzzle, soothing him in the noisy crowds. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she turns to his tack. Quickly she begins to unbuckle the saddle her fingers nimble and sure.

"Lord Aragorn...where is he?" Eowyn's clear voice seems to pierce through even the noisiest of crowds.

Thennil stiffens, her fingers stilling as she waits for someone to tell the poor girl.

"He. He fell." Gimli's gruff voice states.

 **There** is no time to mourn though, and they immediately set out taking care of their mounts. Thennil join's Theoden as he goes through the keep, checking over supplies, weapons, and the walls. They climb the steps of the outer wall, looking out over the land outside the Deep.

"Draw all our forces behind the wall. Bar the gate. And set a watch on the surround." The King ordered, turning away from the land.

The walk the length of the wall to one of the points where they can descend. Thennil follows after them, looking over the workmanship of the walls as she goes. A bad feeling growing in her gut.

"What of those who cannot fight, my Lord? The women and children?"

"Get them into the caves."

They hurry down the stairs, following after the king as he surveys the many women and children gathered in the area behind the wall. He glares around them and up at the climbing cliffs.

"Saruman's arm will have frown long indeed if he thinks he can reach us here."

Thennil helped move the woman and children up through the citadel, urging them on slowly. Each hour that passed seemed like a day. She along with Eowyn continued to help move the food down into the caves, taking baskets of old wrinkled apples and dirt encrusted potatoes down numerous flights of stairs took up most of the afternoon and evening. She along with Legolas had gone out hunting with a few others, but had come back with a few antelopes, a couple of pheasants, and other small game. These they skinned and cleaned, handing the meat to those who had time to cook it.

That night she sat atop the battlements, one leg hung over the side, staring out into the darkness, her sharp eyes looking for any threats. She looked up into the night sky, a sadness coming over her. Though she could see the heavens, a great shadow was rolling over the sky, and the light of the stars dimmed. Her heart grieved at the waining of their light. For all elves treasure the stars above all else. When the first of the Eldar awoke, the first thing that they saw were the stars and their bright light. They had so treasured and loved the stars that they began their 'days' at sunset, when the stars came out. Among all the Valar, the elves honored Varda, the creator of the stars, the most, throwing feasts in her honor.

She grew drowsy, and though elves do not sleep much, her journey thus far had been taxing on her reserve. Slowly she drifted off into a haze, her mind resting while her body was still somewhat aware of herself. She drifted off into the dreamless sleep, wandering through memories and times of long ago.

Then, slowly she became aware of a change in the scenery, buildings rise around her, tall and air-like. Flying past them all she comes to her bedroom, and to her surprise sees her sister lying on her bed, the dark navy velvet of the comforter contrasting with her pale skin. Arwen lies on her bed staring across the room at the mirror, deep in through. Thennil could almost here her thoughts, she her eyes trailing over each of her sisters belongings. A pillow that they had worked on together lay beneath her hand, and she stroked it. The curtains swirled around, rippling in the light breeze.

"Arwen." a voice startles them both, and Thennil twists around her dream-like self and moves behind her sister, placing invisible hands on her shoulders.

Arwen started, turning towards the deep voice and slowly sitting up. She looks over at the figure dressed in silver between the doorposts.

"Tollen i lu. I chair gwannar na Valannor. Si bado...no circar,' her father continues, gazing down at his remaining daughter. Thennil can see the worry lines now etched into his face, a deep sadness glaring out from his dark silvery eyes.

"How can you ask me to leave when my family fights to save our world?" Arwen replies, looking on impassively.

"She is not coming back! Why do you linger here when there is no hope?" he asked sharply, coming to stand before her.

"How can you say that?" She asks, looking up into her father's eyes. Though she has lived a long life, she still lacks the amount of wisdom and fortitude that her father possess. "What do you know about Orelil?"

Thennil's heart plummeted. Her father had not said anything to Arwen about her fate? She knew that he and her grandparents communicated through their minds; knowing that he had not shared any of the news with her sister worried her. Were her brothers kept in the dark also?

"If Thennil were to survive the war, you will still be parted because eventually you will sail, but she will not. If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn made king and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of separation. Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Thennil will die." He stated, his mind far away in one of the many visions that he had seen.

"And there will be no comfort for you, only pain." Elrond's voice trembled, the pain already evident in his heart.

"She will die, wether it be by the sword, a mighty warrior fallen in battle, or that of a mourning widow doomed to watch as the light fades from the land."

A tear slipped down her face, conflict raged in her heart. She was torn by her love for her sister and her love for her father. Raising her tear-worn eyes to him, Arwen lets out a soft sob. Her father walked swiftly over, sitting down beside her and brushed his hand gently across her face, wiping away the tears.

"Do I not have your trust?" he asked mournfully.

She brushed a tear from her eye, looking about at all of her sisters things with great sorrow. "Garish meleth nin, ada."

 **Elrond** stood on his balcony, watching as his remaining daughter slowly walks down the path leaving the place she once called home. He knows that he has protected her for a long time, shielding her from the brutality of the world, and this is his final step. He mourns deeply in his heart over the loss of his eldest, a fate he has done much to change without avail. The voice of his mother-in-law seeps into his mind.

"The world has changed...I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air."

He continued to watch as the last few of the group of departing elves disappears over the rise. The curtains swirling around him as he ponders Galadriel's words.

"The power of the enemy is growing. Sauron will use his puppet Saruman..."

Elrond feels himself being pulled out of his body as he and Galadriel see flashes of Saruman in the Palantir chamber at Orthanc, the wizards hand held over the seeing-stone.

"He looks to destroy the people of Rohan."

A great army marching across Isengard, emptying it's pits. It stretches like a great snake across the hills, black as night, the spears glinting in the moonlight.

"Isengard has been unleashed."

A great red flaming eye burns through Elrond's vision, and his physical body flinches.

"The Eye of Sauron now turns to Gondor...the last free kingdom of Men."

Elrond nods, knowing that war is coming, and quickly.

"His war on this country will come swiftly, like a thief in the night."

A great shadow spreads over the land, and the eye turns.

"He sense the Ring is close; and the strength of the Ring-bearer is failing."

Elrond stood at his window, anger flashing in his silver orbs, frustration bubbling up in his soul.

"In his heart, Frodo begins to understand...the quest will claim his life. You know this." she whispers to his mind.

"You have foreseen it along with other's. It is the risk we all took."

"In the gathering of the dark, the will of the Ring grows strong. It works hard now to find its way back into the hands of Men. Men, who are so easily seduced by its power."

Elrond turns from the window, eyes closed, fear gripping his heart.

"The young captain of Gondor has but to extend his hands, take the Ring for his own and the world will fall."

A waterfall flashes across Elronds vision, the clear water running down like drops of pure silver. Men dressed in dark, worn clothes pass Frodo and Sam along from one to another, their wrists tied.

"It is close now...so close to achieving its goal."

A tower deep within Mordor rises up out of the ashes of Mount Doom. The winged Nazgul fly around, guarding it from invaders.

"For Sauron will have dominion of all life on this Earth..." Elrond waited, for he sensed that she was not done with what she wanted to tell him. He began to walk through his house, stoping to look at this painting and that, some done by his own daughters hands as they had expanded the house.

"..even unto the ending of the world. The time of the Elves, it diminishes."

Elrond stopped before the painting of Isildur defeating Sauron with the broken blade of Narsil. He stares intently at the painting, remembering how his daughter had come through century after century to touch up on the paint that had worn away with time. Blinking he peered closer into the shadows, brow wrinkling in confusion. There amid all the darkness was a shadow, and upon it's breast lay a bright shining pendent. A tree of silver. He could not make out the figure, but it reminded him of someone.

"Do we leave Middle-earth to its fate?" Galadriel's voice echoed in his mind, and he was drawn over the miles and miles between Imladris and the Deep. The light of the stars there had dimmed, but some were still able to shine through the darkness, casting the fortress in a soft white light to his sharp eyes. A ripple of red caught his eye, and he saw a lone figure sitting atop the battlements, staring up at the night sky dreamily.

"Do we let them stand alone?"

 **Thennil** smiled down at the soldier, one of those that had been injured. There were many in the healing hall, some with major injuries, others with small cuts and bruises. She had come across many of them that morning, and knew that even with these few that they didn't stand a chance at defeating the enemy when they came. And so, she had found and sent them all to the hall. Then she had gone through all the herbs and remedies that the healers had stocked up on, hoping that it wouldn't have to be used.

She looked down at her hands, remembering how she had used them to heal in her father's house. Sighing shakily, she knew that she would have to use what little she had discovered about herself to heal these men. As she walked out of the closet all the eyes in the room seemed to turn and look to her. She squared her shoulders, and raised her head high. Then, walking over to one of the men, she began to examine his arm. It was fractured in a few places, and when she prodded, he winced.

Glancing up at him quickly, she found him studying her intently.

"What's your name, young man?"

"Firthdag, my Lady."

"And what do you do, Firthdag?" she asked, touching around his arm, bending it slightly to find where the fractures were. His hands were rough, yet had a gentle look about them, as if he had to be delicate with his job.

"Well, I did tend to the orchards that once grew within our walls, but they have long since dried up and no amount of water will bring them back to life again." he sighed.

"What do you do now?"

"I mostly take care of my mother and sisters,' he replied.

Her eyes widened minutely, and she was very hesitant as she asked her next question, "And your father, what of him?"

He tensed, eyes going dull as he stared across the room at the wall. "Killed by orcs nye on four years ago."

Her eyes grew larger. He looked like he could be no more than twenty summers old, a three o'clock shadow brushing his chin. He was still bulking up, slender like a young deer. She grimaced, looking over his arm once more. It brought her great sorrow to see the youths of this people becoming men before their time. Such was the fate of those who lived with evil upon their doorstep. Alas for peace.

"Are you frightened?" she asked, moving her fingers along the joints and ligaments, pressing gently.

He didn't reply, but his eye twitched as he continued to glare stoically across the room. She nodded, then slowly let her power seep out.

It started like a drop of water falling from a leaf, then turned into a drizzle. From that drizzle it burst into a controlled torrent. Eyes closed, she watched it through her mind's eye, the golden tendrils wrapping around the mans arm, soothing the muscles, straightening the bones and healing them back together. Gasps flew from the mouths of those around her as she let her power flow through her hands. From the young man it spread, like a stone thrown into a still pond, her power rippled like waves through the room, touching each of the wounded. Healing the skin back together, knitting bone, closing gashes. Slowly, as the energy began to flow farther and heal more she began to sway, her limbs trembling and shaking as she raised her hands up. Finally, after many minutes, she shuddered, and collapsed against the side of Firthdag's bed. She slipped into a deep sleep, eyes closing unnaturally for her people.

The healers rushed to her side, gasping in a mix of horror and awe.

"My lady! My lady!" cried one of the younger apprentices, shaking her gently.

"What happened to her?" one asked in confusion.

"She was shaking."

"This must be some strange elven magic to take so much out of a person."

"I've never seen anything like it!"

They carried her from the hard floor and laid her out on one of the beds, spreading a blanket over her pale form. One of the elders, a woman whose hair was whiter than snow with more wrinkles than one of the strange hounds of the east. She hobbled over using a twisted walking stick that looked to be just as old, or older than herself. Her piercing sky blue eyes peered down at the elf, her bones creaking as she did so.

"Lone ago, in the days of Eorl, our greatest king, there was a song that one of his minstrels, who was also a seer, sang during Yuletide."

"What song, Mel? You're always spouting things left and right, we never know what's true or not,' laughed one of the girls as they helped the warriors rise from their beds and file out the door.

The old woman, Mel, rolled her eyes at the young women around her. "To be old and wise, you must first be young and stupid." she snapped.

"Breathe, Mel,' one of the middle aged women said, putting a hand on the woman's arm. "We will listen."

Mel leaned heavily on her stick, and looked down at the pale elf-maid. She chanted the poem softly, her eyes glazing over in memory of when she had sat at her own grandmother's knee and heard the poem sung to her in front of a raging fire.

"She opens her eyes, the whole world cold and black,

Full of people wishing they could be sent back,

Empty faces, tired eyes

Far to weary to even cry

Hopeless people walking by

Filling the lands, looking to the sky

Searching vainly for things that might never come

She closes her eyes, and finds a drop of golden hope

Where the people stand taller

And the hopelessness disappears

Where the pulse of the universe

Is present in every music verse

Where streams of healing light

Stretch out fair and bright, lighting up the the darkest night

And in that moment she becomes one

In an tidal wave of energy gleaming like the sun

She is shining, glowing with golden light

To give strength in their plight."

The women were silent as they finished folding up the bed-linens, glancing ever so often over at the slumbering elf.

Many hours later Thennil awoke to the whispering of the women. They had all gathered on one side of the hall, peering through one of the windows and gasping in suprise. They whispered and twittered like a flock of sparrows, flutter here and there. Pushing off of the bed, she stood to her feet. As she wobbled up to one of the pillars in the room, she listened to the women chatter excitedly.

"Can you believe it?"

"He's more handsome than I thought!"

"I thought he fell over the cliffs at the river? Who could survive-

Thennil stayed to here no more, her feet gaining wings as she sped from the room. Her sharp ears pick up Gimli shouting across the outer court, his voice booming off of the stones. Her feet ran faster as she flew onward, heart pumping wildly, hand clutched to her chest.

Bursting out of the doors of the burg, she came to an abrupt stop, forgetting to breathe. Her sapphire eyes locking onto the tall figure of a man. Her heart stuttered in her chest, singing a joyful song. He looked up at the sudden movement, eyes fastening onto her face as her red hair fanned out around her like a cape. Ignoring everyone around her, she rushed down the stairs and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. A few tears of joy slipped past her defenses and tracked down her face as her eyes glistened.

Pulling back, she glared at him reproachfully. "Don't you dare do that again, do you hear me?" she threatened. "I've nearly lost you twice now, I don't think my heart could take a third round."

He grinned widely, "Isn't that why you love me? I keep surprising you."

She gripped his hand tightly in hers, glaring up at him, "I would love you more if you didn't keep risking your life."

He nodded, then looked to Gimli, "Where is the king?"

The Dwarf nodded to the Hall, a knowing look on his face.

Thennil walked alongside him as he mounted the steps hurriedly, dodging people as they went. Gimli got bowled over more than once amidst the crowd. Aragorn checked over his weapons, tightening his belt as they walked, almost running into Legolas who stepped into their path. Many emotions flashed across his face, relief and joy being the most prominent before amusement settled. He smirked, looking over the ranger.

"Le ab-dollen." teased the elf.

Aragorn looked at the elf, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back, as if to say 'oh, really?" Slowly a grin broke over his face, Legolas returned it, a twinkle in his eye before giving the ranger a more thorough once over, frowning.

"You look terrible."

Aragorn laughed, while Thennil turned to the side as one of the people asked for her. She had become quite popular among the elderly, using small bursts of power to ease their pain or to delight the children with golden fire-work like sparks. She did not notice the exchange between Aragorn and Legolas, nor the unhappy face of a woman who thought herself in love with him.

Thennil leaned against one of the columns in the hall, watching Theoden pace back and forth as he listened to the rangers tale. So many emotions passed over his face, his eyes narrowing, then widening in turn as he heard something new.

"A great host, you say?" asked the king, turning, pondering.

"All Isendgard is emptied,' nodded Aragorn, crossing his arm while fingering his sword.

"How many?" the king continued, and Thennil could here the frantic grasp for hope in his voice.

"Ten thousand strong at least."

The king turned, jaw slack as he stared incredulously at the ranger. "Ten thousand?"

The ranger nodded grimly, his face hard. "It is an army bred for a single purpose...Theoden staggered towards him...to destroy the world of Men."

The king looked about him, brow furrowing as he tried to comprehend the rangers words. His hands shook at his side, fear flashing in his eyes as he looked towards the hallway which led to the caves where the women and children were slowly filling.

"They will be here by nightfall."

Thennil watched from the shadows, emotionless as she calculated the amount of men they had, subtracting the young boys and older men. She knew that the numbers were to small, they would be wiped off the face of the earth like someone blowing out a candle. Even with adding the old and very young there was little chance of survival, but wasn't that part of the quest they had set out upon? To attempt to do what no one had done before?

In the pale light filtering in through a small window far up in the wall the King straightened his shoulders, lifting his head up high. He strode away from the group, cloak flaring out behind him resolutely.

"Let them come!"

 **They** followed after the king as he shouted orders, having men barricade the gate, others guiding the women and children into the caves. Like the general that he had once been in his youth, the king issued orders in rapid succession, walking with purpose.

"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall."

He dismissed Gamling, who was now second in command after Hama's death, and walked out through the main gate. He looked it up and down, surveying the work that was being done on it with sharp eyes as he assessed their position. Thennil followed him out, looking over the land with a heavy heart. She rested against the gate next to Gimli who stared up at the king.

"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above,' he pointed, envisioning archers and spearmen, 'No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall or set for inside the Hornburg!"

Beside her Gimli shifted in boredom, looking up at the stonework around him. "This is no rabble of mindless Orcs." he stated.

Theoden turned to look at the dwarf, shocked to hear anything from him.

"These are Uruk-Hai. Their armor is _thick,_ and their shields broad." the dwarf continued, leaning forward.

The King drew himself up, looking down at the dwarf, an eyebrow raised. He loomed over the dwarf, a quiet anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf,' he stated gruffly. 'I know how to defend my own keep."

Theoden turned to her as she placed a calming hand on Gimli's shoulder. She nodded weakly as he looked to her for some approval. She was a legend among his people, the great elven warrior that had fought with Eorl and his descendants. It would not due to take away the small amount of courage that he took from her presence.

Squeezing the dwarf's shoulder, she followed after the king. Gimli grumbled, thunking his axe on the ground, and trotted after them as they began to climb the stairs. The checked every door, every crack and crevice ordered them to be strengthened, really for battle. Thennil kept quiet unless asked something by Theoden or Gamling, feeling the tension between the males of the group.

"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be resown; homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast the." The king descended from the battlements, turning as Aragorn spoke in exasperation. Thennil watched from behind, eyes narrowing at the tone that he took.

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come to destroy its people, down to the last child." His voice echoed weakly over the stones.

Theoden turned swiftly, violently pulling the ranger close to him. His eyes smoldered angrily as he hissed. "What would you have me do? Look at my Men. Their courage hangs by a thread."

Aragorn looked down and away, watching the people walk past beneath them.

"If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance." he turned away, walking down among his people.

Aragorn followed after, pleading with the stubborn king. "Send out riders, my lord. You must call for aid!"

Theoden whirled around looking deep into the ranger's eyes. "And who will come? Dwarves?- he looked over Aragorn's shoulder-Elves?- He looked at Legolas, then at Thennil-Doubtfull. We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

Aragorn persisted. "Gondor will answer."

Theoden's anger grew, and Thennil hurried forward. "Gondor?! Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us?! Where was Gon-"

He breathed heavily, closing his eyes. Thennil laid a hand upon each of their shoulders, gently edging them apart.

"No, my Lord Aragorn,' the king sighed quietly, 'we are alone."

 **Here we are, the Battle of Helms Deep is about to begin! I know that Thennil's personality has changed, and there are some** **inconsistencies, but I want to plough through the story before editing so I know where I'm going.**

 **Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Robin**


	50. Chapter 47

"We'll place the reserves along the wall. They can support the archers from above the gate." Aragorn continued, working his way through the throng of people with Thennil on his tale. She watched him as he staggered, his body weary from overuse. He pushed himself harder as they hurried up a flight of stairs. His breathing was labored, and she could see that his shoulder pained him.

She grabbed his arm, the unwounded one, and twisted him around to look at her. "Aragorn, you must rest. You're no use to us half alive."

Her voice was filled with pleading, eyes begging him to pause, even for a moment. He ignored her. She growled as he turned away. "Please."

"I will not rest until every one here is prepared for this battle,' he stated vehemently, looking over the people.

"Then let me help you,' she said, staring up into his tired eyes as she grabbed his hand.

He smiled sadly, closing her fingers into a fist. "Keep your strength, you will need it."

She narrowed her eyes, "You are going to let me fix your shoulder at least, no if, ands, or buts about it."

" _Thennil."_

"No. I won't see you go into battle still suffering from an unseen wound. It could be your weak link in your armor, Aragorn!" she glared up at him. Then softer, barely a whisper, "I can't lose you."

He nodded, "As you wish."

"Aragorn!" Eowyn's voice rings through the crowd as she rushes towards them. She skittered to a stop before them, anger radiating off her. "I'm to be sent with the women into the caves!"

Aragorn nodded, "That is an honorable charge."

She restrained herself as she almost went to stomp her foot in frustration. "To mind the children, to find food and bedding when the men return. What renown is there in that?"

Aragorn took her hands in his, looking intently into her eyes. Thennil squirmed beside him, but said nothing. "My lady, a tie may come for valor without renown. Who then will your people look to in the last defense?"

"Let me stand at your side,' she pleaded, desperation blooming on her features.

"It is not in my power to command it."

Aragorn turned away, and Thennil looked sorrowfully at Eowyn. So acute in her want to prove herself.

Eowyn stood unmoving, staring after him. "You do not command the others to stay! They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you,' sShe looked over Thennil, 'Because they love you!"

Aragorn turned to look at her, silently standing before her as the weight of his gaze rested upon her slim shoulders. She averted her gaze, humiliated that she had spoke so plainly before others. She pushed past him, heading into the caves. As she passed Thennil, the elf slipped a long dagger into her hand, giving her a meaningful look as Aragorn disappeared into the crowd of men and boys.

"We will try our best to keep them from getting through,' she whispered, 'but if we fail..."

Eowyn nodded, "Thank you."

Thennil squeezed her hand, looking over the crowd of women and children gathered in the caves. "Let me help you while we wait."

 **They** worked through the cave, handing out blankets as the time passes. Soldiers come to take the boys and old men from their families. Thennil tries to block out the cries and wails of the women and children as their loves ones are shepherded off like sheep to the slaughter. The children look up at the walls with fear and doubt in their small eyes, hair tussled every which way. Mother's hold their children close as they let the tears fall. The caves seemed to go on forever, glittering and shimmering in the soft light of the many torches. Stalactites and stalagmites litter the floor and ceiling, rising up like teeth of some great beast, ready to devour them.

Most of the food was handed out, guarded by a few women. A few of them had been raised as sheildmaidens, and those women, who's husbands were now suiting up for war, were placed at the entrance to the glittering caves. These women Thennil gave a quick brushing up on form and stance. Keep one foot in front of the other, that would provide better stability; two hands on the hilt of the sword, better control, and so on. They took it all in a stride, banishing their fears and doubts to the back of their mind. Thennil worked extra long with Eowyn, who though experienced with the blade, was not experienced in real combat. They went a few rounds for practice before Thennil quite giving pointers and fought like she would if Eowyn were her enemy.

Her movements were violent, calculated, deadly. Back and forth they parried, Eowyn, standing her ground for as long as possible. Finally, she dropped her arms, stumbling away. She shook her head, flexing her fingers as she looked over Thennil in awe.

"How do you do it?" she asked.

"Years of practice in the training fields and on patrol." Thennil stated, sheathing her sword, not even winded.

"But that dead look in your eyes?" said the blonde.

"Like you've locket all your emotions away, how can you do that when you see everyone around you falling?" one of the younger shield maidens asked.

Thennil sighed, running her hand through her hair, "It's not so much that I lock them away, I use them as motivation to do better, to fight harder. It's also knowing that you cannot save everyone. Some people Mandos will call to his halls because it is their time. It is learning to accept what you cannot change, though it is a hard path to follow."

The women each came and clasped her hand in theirs, bowing their head as they whispered words and prayers for her safety. As she turned away, Thennil caught them linking hands as they looked at the door which led from the caves. They looked up at the cavern ceiling, some faces streaked with dirty, hair pulled back into braids or clasps, swords at their sides, a hum coming from them. When she came to the first stair that led from the cavern, their voices broke through the soft noises of the women and children behind them.

"Lo, there do I see my Father..

Lo, there do I see my Mother

And my Sisters and my Brothers..."

Slowly, other voices began to join in, like a growing wave of water rising from the sea in swells.

"Lo, there do I see the line

Of my people back to the beginning..

Thay do bid me to take my place among them..

In the Land of Otherworld,

Where the Brave may live forever.

My name is not my own,

It is borrow from my ancestors,

I must return it unstained,

My honor is not my own,

It is on loan from my descendants,

I must give it to them unbroken.

Our blood is not our own,

It is a gift to generations not yet born,

We should carry it with responsibility."

The words rang through the cavern, growing louder and louder with each line as each person stood from their spot, watching the entrance to their safe cove. As she walked up the stairs, Thennil could still hear the words echoing off the walls into the upper keep, and was honored by the sendoff that she received from a people that she had only known for a few days. She exits out into one of the passageways that lead up to the courtyard.

She follows it, turning to the left and ducking under a very low door mantle into the back of the stable. Stopping before one of the empty stalls, she picks up her bag from where she had left it earlier. Looking over the items within it, and her shield resting against the wall, she pulls her extra leather armor from within the pack. As she began to strap it on, she realized that in a battle that she would not be protected quiet as well, and wished for some of her own armor from home.

Home. How long had it been since she had sat beneath the trees in her mother's garden? Walked the halls with Erestor deep in conversation about this text and that. Sparing with her brothers in the training field under the watchful eye of Glorfindel. Sitting with Arwen when she was home and sewing new dresses for a feast. Studying with her father under the stars. Working alongside the elf-smiths in the forge when she was bored. Smelling fresh baked sweet bread as she walked past the kitchens. Riding her horse through the fading leaves during the autumn.

It felt like it had been a century since she had met the hobbits in her home. She worried for Merry and Pippin, even though Gandalf had said that they were fine, and much safer than she was. Pulling on the strap to tighten her jerkin, tugging it over her tunic. Slipping a brush she had borrowed from Eowyn while in Edoras, she ran it through her hair, braiding pieces of it back from her face, making them tight, yet elegant. She buckled on her sword belt, slipping her daggers into their shieths along her waist. Slinging her quiver over her shoulder, she slipped her bow through the strap.

Walking out of the stable, she entered the small courtyard before it. Treading softly, she approach the small, shallow stone pool that lay in it's center. She looked down into the still water, taking in her appearance. She looked like a deadly messenger sent from deep within the woods. Like one of the first elves stepped out of a painting. Her blue eyes seemed black in the fading light as the weak starlight reflected off the water. After fixing one of her daggers, she raised her chin in determination.

She was ready.

 **She** skulked up the stairs into the main courtyard, coming to rest in the flickering of a small fire in one of the grates. Huddled around many of the others, or standing in pair were the young boys that had been pulled from their mother's arms not a few hours earlier. The fidgeted nervously, looking this way and that, but never meeting anyones eyes. The soldiers moved to and fro preparing for the attack, placing extra spears in arms reach, checking over their weapons and sharpening their swords in the armory.

Sitting upon the steps was Aragorn, and from his stiff shoulders and the shadows covering his face, she assumed that he had had words with someone. He ran his hand through his hair ever few seconds, looking around him at the boys. One of them, who stood near to the edge of the steps, was nervously holding his sword, turning it this way and that, testing it in each of his hands. He glanced up at the dark-haired man, but quickly averted his gaze when he saw that Aragon had noticed him.

"Give me your sword."

The boy whipped around, looking at the ranger with large eyes. Slowly, he walked over to Aragorn, handing his sword over reverently. The ranger took it, weighing it in his hand.

"What is your name?"

"Halted, son of Hama, my lord." the boy spoke proudly, lifting his head up, though his lip wobbled. Thennil felt like a knife had pierced her heart, and she saw Aragorn nod, a haunted look coming into his eyes. She hadn't known that Hama had had a son, not one so young. She cringed, looking the boy up and down. He was a skinny thing, but beneath all that bulky armor she could see the beginnings of muscle. He would be a strong man, if they survived the night.

"The Men are saying that we will not live out the night. They say that it is hopeless..." stated the boy doubtfully.

Wordlessly, Aragorn stood and eyed the sword. He gave it a few swings, testing it even more, before twisting it so that the pommel was directed at Haleth.

"This is a good sword,' he handed it back to the boy, who took it gingerly. The others had all turned to Aragorn, watching his every move as he interacted with one of their own. Listening.

"Halted, son of Hama -the ranger leaned down to look the boy in the eye while clapping him gently on the shoulder- there is always hope."

Thennil walks out into the moonlight, her hair shining like dull fire. Slowly, the eyes of all seem to turn to the elf, but she didn't seem to notice as she stridded over to Aragorn. Many of the men began to whisper to one another, and Haleth caught their words. He turned to look her up and down as she looked around the courtyard, her eyes taking in the movements of all.

"You are the shield warrior,' he stated. 'The one who allied with Eorl and his son, Brego."

She nodded, and the boy grinned in amazement, looking her up and down. "I have heard stories about you from my Grandfather. I've wanted to meet you ever since,' he paused, a blush stealing over his cheeks, 'since I decided that I wanted to marry you."

The men around them laughed at his statement, and he turned away in embarrassment. Shaking her head, she pulled him back around with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. She smiled at him.

"And I would be honored by your proposal, Haleth, son of Hama,' she stopped, chuckling, 'Only I am several thousands of years older than you."

He gaped, "How old are you?"

The men laughed even louder, and Thennil smiled, glad that there was some joy to be found amid all this darkness.

Aragorn smirked teasingly, "Too old for you."

Haleth laughed, and moved off towards his friends, where they began to swing their swords and practice parrying. The men went back to their work, reenforcing the walls and gate, organizing themselves into groups where they were evenly matched between strong and week, able to protect one another.

Thennil looked Aragorn up and down, raising an eyebrow at his clothes. "I don't think that any of this is going to work well protecting you from those orc blades out their."

He shrugged, and turned towards the armory. They began to page through the remainder of the pieces, searching for things that would fit him. He tried to convince her to find something that would work for her, but she shook her head. Everything that was there was made to fit a broad shouldered man, not the thin, muscular frame of a female elf. Even so, he would come and measure chainmail against her shoulders to see if it was even a close fit, none of them even came close. Pulling a leather jerkin from the racks, she held it up to him, eyeballing it. It would be a good fit with a belt, and she laid it out over one of the tables scattered throughout the room. He found a thing of mail that was a close fit, and laid it out over the jerkin. Searching through the padding at one end of the room, she pulled out the newest looking gambeson, and held it out to him. He slid into it, tugging at the sleeves, which ended before his elbow. Over his head went the chainmail, the the leather jerkin. She began to tie the straps together, allowing wiggle-room so that he would be able to move freely, but not so much that there would be spaces open to the enemies blades.

Reaching up, she tied the last one that ended just under his collar bone. She let her hands rest upon his chest, leaning her head against him. He drew her into his arms as she leaned into him, eyes closed. His chapped hands combed through her riotous curls, soothing.

"Be careful out there,' she said pulling back to look up at him.

He nodded, and they separated so that he could buckle his belt over the whole ensemble. Turning, he went to grab his sword, but found it in the hands of Legolas.

"We have trusted you this far, and you have not led us astray." began the elf. "Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn shook his head. "U-moe edhored, Legolas."

They smiled at one another, clasping hands.

Thennil's ears perked up at the rustling of metal, and they turned to see Gimli come waddling out of one of the aisles wrestling with a shirt of chainmail. He grunted, pulling and tugging at the thing. Thennil snickered, and he glared up at her.

"If we had time, I'd get this adjusted,' he stated, finally getting the shirt over his barrel chest. It dropped to the floor with a 'THUNK', piling up in a heap at his feet.

Legolas and Aragorn glanced at each, smiling.

"It's a little tight across the chest,' the dwarf stated unphased.

Thennil arched an eyebrow, as if to say: "Oh really? Do tell."

Legolas and Aragorn nodded, trying to keep their faces straight at the comical sight that was their friend.

A horn sounded outside the Hall, echoing. Thennil's head snapped up and to the door, recognizing the sound like an old friend.

"That is no Orc horn,' Legolas cried.

She rushed out of the armory, hair flying out behind her as she brushed past the men. "No, it is not!"

She can hear the marching of a thousand feet against the stone, hear the soft breathing of a thousand mouths. Around her she can hear the muted awe of the men as they looked on in wonder and excitement. She can hear the heavy steps of the King as he defended the stairs.

"How is this possible?" came his amazed voice.

Bursting out from amid the warriors, she comes to a stop at the top of the stairs, hair swishing around her in her abruptness. Haldir's eyes came to settle on her, and he bowed low, causing Theoden to turn and look as all the other elves followed suit. He had not seen her since before they had separated in the Hall, and she was a sight to behold. A beautiful warrior. In that moment, he could not tell if it was a trick of the light or that of his own mind, but he was sure that upon her brow sat a shining star, bright as the sun. The next moment it was gone, and it was only her eyes shining in the night light.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together as one."

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli stepped out from among the Rohorrim warriors, and their smiles grew. Haldir smiled up at them as Thennil descended the stairs, the trio following close on her heels.

"We come to honor that allegiance."

"Mae govannen, Haldir."

Halide extends in hand the traditional Elvish welcome, but Aragorn ignores it, grabbing the elf in an embrace. The elf stiffens, momentarily stunned, but blinking, he hugged the ranger back lightly.

"You are most welcome."

Legolas and Haldir clapped each other on the shoulder, greeting one another in the way of warriors. Behind them the elves preformed a left face, coming to stand in attention for Theoden's, and Thennil's, review. Haldir bowed before the king once again, and then to Thennil.

"We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."

 **Haldir** stepped up to her side as the elves filed up onto the battlements, nodding his head in acknowledgment as she turned towards him.

"How are my grandparents, my friend?" she asked, worry in her eyes.

"They are well, though the attack on the Golden woods grows fiercer every day."

She swallowed. "And my Ada, how does he fair?"

"He sent word that all was well, and that the elves have started to leave for the shores in larger numbers than ever before..."

"But?" she inquired, feeling like there was more.

"Though they leave, there seems to be a greater number that return,' her eyes widened, pulse quickening in confusion. 'They do not feel that their time here is over. Your words and actions have had a great influence on them."

"My words? Actions?" she was puzzled.

He looked at her curiously, amazed that she did not know. "You have always looked at world and people around us, seeing what goes on, but never going out and doing anything about it, letting the Free Men of Middle Earth figure out their own problems, when in fact, it is both of our problems."

The pause was heavy, as he looked out over the Men.

"You have shown us that we can close our eyes to the things that we do not want to see, fleeing from what is our responsibility, but we could not entirely close our hearts to the things that we did not want to feel. We seem to have forgotten to not see things just as they are, but to see things as we are. You have been an example for an Age, It is time we follow it and become protectors of our world."

She could not tear her eyes away from his face, his words turning her to stone in shock. It took her more than a moment to take in all that he had said, replaying it over and over in her mind. Her people. Her people had forgone their call of the sea. How was that possible?

The only thing that she could coherently say was: "Le fael, Haldir."

 **They** stood upon the wall, shoulder to shoulder, Men beside Elves, with not a space to be seen upon the ramparts. The Deeping Wall was filled to the brim, twenty feet high, and so thick that four men could walk abreast along the top. It was sheltered by a carpet over which only taller men could look. Here and there were clefts in the stone through which men could shoot, and it was here that the elves were placed, those who were not quite as tall at the openings. This battlement could be reached by a stair running down from a door in the outer court of the Homburg; three flights of steps led also up not the wall from the Deep behind; but in front it was smooth, and the great stones of it were set with such skill that no foothold could be found at their joints, which impressed Gimli immensely.

Said dwarf leaned against the breastwork upon the wall, examining the seams himself. Legolas sat above on the carpet, fingering his bow, with Thennil standing close by among the elves. Ever so often Gimli would try to peer over the wall, but was too short, which resulted in a lot of grumbling from him in the end as he sniffed the air. He looked behind them, through the many limbs of the men and elves, up to the mountain rising into the night sky.

"This is more to my liking,' huffed the dwarf, stamping on the stones. "Ever my heart rises as we draw near the mountains. There is good, solid rock here. This country has tough bones. I felt them in my feet as we came up from the dike.' He turned to the Elf, sitting above him, eyes narrowing as he jumped from his spot to land next to the dwarf.

"I do not doubt it,' said Legolas. "But you are a dwarf, and dwarves are strange folk."

Thennil snorted next to them, burying her face in her sleeve to muffle the noise from the others, though she knew for certain that any of the elves near her heard the unladylike noise.

"I do not like this place, and I shall like it nor more by the light of day."

The elf looked over the Rohirrim, noting their archers, and was glad that some of his kin were there with them that night.

The dwarf looked around them, glaring at all of the towering elves that surrounded him. "It is dark for archery,' he mumbled. 'Indeed it is time for sleep. Sleep! I feel the need of it, as never I thought any dwarf could. Riding is tiring work, yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of orc-necks and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!"

Legolas looked down at his friend, sighing as he looked at his stout stature, solid and unmoving. "You comfort me, Gimli, and I am glad to have you standing nigh with your stout legs and your hard axe. I wish there were more of you kin among us."

The dwarf huffed. "I wouldn't doubt it, had my King known of our plight here I am sure that he would have sent a legion of dwarves to our ranks.'

"Alas!' cried the dwarf sadly. 'I have no doubt that our own mountain is under some form of attack as we are now."

Thennil sighed, her mind drifting over the miles that separated her from Mariam. How was she? she wondered.

"I still say that you could have chosen a better spot,' grumbled the dwarf, rolling his eyes.

The dwarf's helmet was just visible over the edge of the wall.

Legolas smirked, looking over as Aragorn threaded his way through the elves and men, glancing out over the land before them. They stood together as the sound of the marching of feet, loud and final in the night air echoed off the rock walls around them. The wind blew gently over them, but not a hair stirred in it's movements. All were still.

"Well laddie, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night,' stated the dwarf over his shoulder.

A great roll of thunder roared over them, and lightning flashed in the air, making the great host approaching stand out in it's light. The enemy was a sea of black against the white of the flash, reaching on and on into the night behind them. Beside her Legolas stiffens, eyes going wide at the sight.

He turned to Aragorn, determination in his soft voice. "Your friends are with you, Aragorn."

"Let's hope they last the night."

A slow time passed. The marching of the Uruk-hai grew louder and louder, as if it was their goal to snuff out all their courage by sheer noise. The hosts of Isengard advanced in silence as they grew nearer, now clanging of metal on metal, only the pounding of their feet. Their torches could be seen winding up the combo in many lines.

The men stood ready, adrenaline slowly seeping into their veins as they wait, watching over the wall. More thunder and lightning fill the sky, coming one after the other. Looking up into the sky, Thennil blinked in surprise as a raindrop splatted onto her face. Slowly, it began to fall faster and faster, but the men were unmoved by the sudden downpour. Ever nearer the sea of spears grew closer, and through the rain she saw an orc step atop one of the rocks strewn throughout the fields before the Deep, waiting as the others continued on towards the wall.

Aragorn moved through the ranks of elves, shouting. "A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn ... an uben tanatha le faelas!"

Haldir looked over to her, waiting. She shook her head, nodding back at him. He stood his ground, fingering his bow. Rolling her eyes, she cleared her throat softly, and looked up into the skies.

"Gurth ani chyth 'win, Avo dheo annin!" she cried, voice loud against the crashing noises around them.

The orc arm slowed to a stop before the wall, their spears moving in the wind as it blew across them. Though the rain fell in torrents, the flame of the torches still blazed on, small lights in the immense darkness. Thennil could feel the impatience of both sides as they waited holding their breaths. Grunts and loud snorts could be heard over the pattering of the rain as tension rose. Farther down Gimli hopped and strained to see over the wall, trying to pull himself up to see what was happening.

"What's happening out there?" he asked, straining harder.

"Shall I describe it to you?" the elf smirked down at the dwarf. "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

A smile grew on the dwarf's face, and he laughed loudly.

Out in the darkness, Thennil caught a flash of metal waving in the air, and as the lightning flashed again she saw the Uruk-hai leader roar, though she was only just able to hear the sound. He swung his weapon round his head, encouraging the dark clad figures on. A great pounding began to rumble across the ground, vibrating the stone she stood one. Gimli looked down at his feet nervously, feeling the tremble just as much as she because of his sensitivity to the stones. In unison the elves drew their bows, arrows at the ready. The metallic noise of swords ringing greeted her ear she she drew her bow, hoping to take as many orcs out as she could before the sun rose in the sky.

The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as she kept her arm steady. She muttered numerous prayers to Manwe and Varda, praying for a successful battle, then to Nienna, Lady of Mercy, to guide them. A hundred of thoughts flew through her mind as the orcs began to roar and shout, sounding like snarling lions and howling wolves. She looked to the sky, praying that the storm would cease and the stars to grace them with their light. The time passed, and the sky was utterly dark, the stillness of the heavy air a greater foreboding storm. She could hear the orcs confusion while they waited for some form of retaliation to come from the wall. A few threw their spears, but none reached their mark. Ever and again the lightning tore aside the darkness.

Time stood still.

 **So, my lovely readers, Helm's Deep! Please Enjoy!**

 **Also, I got a new Job, full time, Hallelujah! And it comes with Benefits+Insurance! Super duper excited!**

 **Also, College is going to be starting up the second week of January, my life is going to get busy again. I'm hoping to be able to write during this time, but please have some grace!**

 **See ya after Christmas, Dearlings!**

 **Robin**


	51. Chapter 48

**Posting early as a Christmas present to all of you! Merry Christmas!**

It was then that an arrow was loosed from the string, bounding forward, and sinking into the neck of one of the orcs. The beast groaned, before tumbling to the ground, spear slipping from it's fingers. A great roar echoed through the night, and the Uruk-hai surged forward, their spears raised in their hands.

"Tangado halad!" cried Aragorn, and as one the archer nocked their arrows. They stood still and steady, eyes trained upon the enemy as the orcs grew closer.

"Faeg i-varv din na lanc...a nu ranc!" She cried over the noise, arrow pulled back to her ear.

Aragorn brought him arm down in a long arch, voice ringing : "Leithio i philinn!"

The archers released their arrows, a storm against the enemy, stones also were flung from slings, ranging down upon them. They wavered, broke, and some fled back; and then charged again, broke and charged again; and each time, like the incoming sea, they halted at a higher point.

"Did they hit anything?"

Legolas smirked, and Thennil chuckled at the dwarf's enthusiasm.

Back and forth the Elves and Men went, first one race would give a volley, then the other. Volley after volley flew out into the raging black sea, but it did not stop the orcs from advancing.

Gimli shifted from foot to foot, jumping every now and then hoping to see over the wall as they continued their assault. "Send them to me! Come on!"

From among the Uruk-hai arrows fly, thicker than those of the elves and men. Elves and men began to fall to their doom among the approaching throng. From the depths of the Uruk-hai great ladders were produced, black and jagged as they mounted the wall.

"Pendraid!" cried Aragorn in warning.

More and more ladders greeted them, filled with the Uruk-hai. Aragorn called for swords, and the elves replaced their bows with their long, slightly curved swords. Some drew close together, preparing to fight back to back as the orcs descended upon them. Gimli was the first to make contact, slicing off one of the ugly beasts heads. Then it was a flurry of blades as the Uruk's poured over the wall, Men and Elves battling back to back as they dumped their enemies bodies over the walls.

Thennil stuck with Haldir, their blades moving rhythmically together as they felled the orcs around them with a deadly speed. They ducked and wove together, bending and twisting like the wind as it raged around them. More and more ladders rose in the night, the Uruk's flooding the ramparts like water from the sea.

"Twenty-two,' she stated, felling another beast.

"Twenty-six, beat that my Lady!" chuckled her companion as he took out two orcs in one swing.

She rolled her, "What would my Ada say, seeing us in a competition to kill the most?"

Trumpets sounded again from the enemy, who surged forward with more vigor. Some climbed up the ladders while others began to climb the causeway and the ramp that led up to the Hornhurg-gates. There the hugest of Orcs were mustered, and among them she spotted a number of the wild men of Dunland fells. A moment the group hesitated and then on they came. Lightning flashed, blazoned upon every helm and shield the vastly hand of Isendgard was.

Noticing the perl coming up the causeway, Thennil cried out. "Aragorn! The causeway!"

Archers released their arrows, firing into the side of the group, causing many to fall away. Those who held the great shields above them like a roof were protected, and those that huddled beneath them carrying two great trees. They continued to advance, slow and steady as they came closer and closer to the gates.

Thennil sliced at the orc she had been fighting, ending it quickly as she hurried along the wall towards some of the men who were having a difficult time keeping up with the orcs pouring over the top of the wall. She could hear Aragorn shouting, his voice filled with panic as she fled past him towards the men. Glancing out over the battlefield below, she gasps at the sight of a large berserker running towards the wall. Memories flew through her mind, and she knew that whatever he was doing, he was heading for the grate at the bottom of the wall. Her feet seemed to grow wings as she sped over the stone, and in her desperation let a small burst of her power push out to knock the men away. The power escaped through her finger tips like whips of directed smoke reaching out.

Then a massive explosion blew up the wall. Stone flew up into the sky, those closest to the explosion were thrown into the air like rag dolls. They plummeted to the ground, some rising, others lying stiller than death, their bodies at odd angles. She found herself handing off the walkway by a few fingers. Unable to fathom how she had gotten there, she struggled against gravity, trying to find holds with her toes in the wall, but the stones were so cleanly cut that it was nigh impossible. The minutes felt like hours as she heaved herself up, coming face to face with an orc glaring down at her sword raised. Then, a sliver sword appeared through it's neck, and it fell to the side. Standing above her was Haldir, a relieved look upon his face.

"You're grandmother would have had my head if anything happened to you,' he said pulling her onto her feet.

"And she would have mine if anything happened to you."

Glaring down at the flood of orcs flowing through the gap in the wall, she turns to him and nods. "Go-vaethathanc?"

"Tolen," he said, clasping her hand as they descended upon the orcs.

 **Farther** down the way, the men braced the gate, leaning against it as those above hailed down stones and arrows, hoping to deter them. If any man fell, crushed by a stone hurtling from above, two others sprang to take his place. Again and again the great rams swung and crashed. The youth's among them letting out the loud battle cries of their people, hurtling stone after stone down upon their enemies, finding new strength in their determination.

 **The** elves engaged the Uruk-hai, their swords slicing through the air like scissors through silk. Their movements fluid like water. Thennil and Haldir fight above them with a few others that they have gathered, some shooting, others fighting sword to sword with the enemy. But no matter how many they shot down, more took their place. She saw her people fall before her eyes, and a great anger grew in her heart. She knew that few of them could hope to survive this onslaught, they were far to outnumbered.

Below her she could see Aragorn fighting against the orcs with Gimli by his side, Legolas joining them moments later as she shot at those coming up the stairs. Vastly outnumbered, she her emotions grew, bubbling up out of her, and through her hands.

A voice echoed across the battlefield, "Aragorn! Fall back to the Keep! Get your Men out of there!"

Glancing around, she knew that more would be lost in the retreat. Aragorn motioned to the elves and men, calling out in a loud voice to retreat. "Na Barad! Na Barad!"

She continued to fight along with the others grouped around her, and realized that they were being cut off from the main body of fighters. "Haldir, come on!"

She pushed him ahead of her as they fought their way down to the stairs closer to the keep, the moon shining over them. The other men and elves moved with them, a force against those that came against them. Sword weaving in and out, parring the heavy blows she heard Aragorn call to her across the field as he hurried others before him.

"Thennil! Haldir!"

Haldir turned to look at him, "To the Keep!"

The elf nodded as they continued to fight their way down the ramparts together.

"Na Barad!" she cried over the plane, dodging a rather close swing from her opponent. In a flash of swinging swords, arms and legs, Thennil lost sight of her friend as they continued on. She cut down another orc, making short work of the beast before turning to find Haldir staggering. His arm hung limply by his side as he killed the offending Uruk. Looking down at his arm in disbelief, he whirled around, eyes glazed over in shock. A Uruk crept up behind him, sword raised. Behind her Aragorn is screaming, running through the orcs as fast as he can while taking them out.

"No!" she screamed, whipping out a dagger and throwing it with deadly accuracy. It embeds itself into the Uruk's forehead, but does not stop the pommel of it's sword from falling down to knock the elf in the head, though not with as much force. Leaping over the dead, she hurried over to the elf as he looked out upon the bodies of his kinsmen. Just as she got to him, he slumped forward, his heavy weight coming to rest in her arms as his body shuddered.

"No, no, no!' she cried angrily over him, 'You're not dying on me today, mellonin!"

Aragorn stumbled upon them, looking over his friends limp body in a silent rage. Looking up at an approaching group of Uruk-hai, he leaped forward. Thennil ignored him for a moment, looking over Haldir's wounds, digging into her pouch for herbs as she recited an incantation over them, spitting into her dirty palm and rubbing it into the one on his arm.

His eyes fluttered open, and he groaned, limbs feeling like pudding. "I don't think that you can order death about- he gasped in pain- my lady."

"Whatever you say my friend,' she huffed, letting out a small spurt of her powers, a golden sparkle settling around the elves as the magic thrummed through her into him.

He groaned louder, the magic working it's way through his body, healing his wounds enough for him to stand. Pulling him up, she hurried them down the ramparts, flighting Uruk's as she went. The descent from the wall was difficult, fighting off the Uruk's while at the same time supporting Haldir as they went. They stumbled a few times, climbing up the stairs to the Keep, arrows raining down from her companions above to give them some cover. Bursting through the gateway to the inner court, she handed Haldir off to a group of waiting healers as they ushered the other wounded through to the healing halls deep within the burg.

Then she was running down the walkways and stairs towards the main gate. She can hear the wood groaning as the outside force battered against it. The cries of wounded men grated in her ears as she plunged down towards the fray. Leaping over the heads of some of the men, other elves joining the forces above to rain down arrows from on high, she let forth a fierce battle cry. Sword whistling through the air with those near her, she battled on, encouraging the men as she did so.

The rain fell harder, making the stones slippery, and the orcs began to slid about the causeway. The Rohirrim battled on, some shooting, others slashing with their swords at the Uruks that made it through the barrier. She along with the others worked fiercely to hold it. Aragorn came in the roll of thunder, his sword hacking from side to side as he took out orcs right along with them.

"Hold them!" cried the king.

"How long do you need?" asked Aragorn, fighting shoulder to shoulder with her as the king took his sword back into his hand.

"As long as you can give me."

Aragorn nodded, and looking around found Gimli hopping from side to side eager for a fight.

"Come, Gimli!' said Aragorn. 'This is the hour when we draw swords together!"

Thennil drew Aragorn in quickly, placing a rushed kiss upon his lips as she looked up into his eyes. Without a word she was able to communicate how much she loved him in a glance before he hurried away.

 **Running** like fire, they sped along the wall, and up the steps, and passed the outer court upon the Rock. There was a small postern-door that opened in an angle of the burg-wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet it. On that side a narrow path ran round towards the great gate, between the wall and the sheer brink of the Rock. Opening the door as silently as they could, they peeped out to make sure that there was no danger. Creeping out, they sidled along the outside wall on the pathway. Aragorn peeped out around the side of the tower, hearing the loud cries of the men fighting within. There, crowded against the destroyed gate were the Uruk's, trying to force their way in.

Aragorn leaned back against the wall, seeing the long jump that they would have to take. Images of the cliff rushing by him when he fell resurfaced in his mind, and he inhaled sharply

"Come on. We can take them." Encouraged Gimli, chuckling softly when he heard Thennil's loud battle cries among those of the Rohirrim.

Aragorn looked down at Gimli sidelong with a knowing smirk.

"It's a long way."

Gimli leaned forward, taking a quick peek before leaning back hurriedly, looking up at the man, then back out into the darkness with embarrassment. It was a long way.

"Tommes." mumbled the dwarf.

"What?"

"I cannot jump the distance. You'll have to toss me!" the dwarf rushed out.

The ranger nodded slowly, turning slightly to get a grip on the dwarf.

"Ahaumm...don't tell the elf."

The ranger nodded, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Not a word."

With one swift movement, the ranger tossed the dwarf across the span and into the throng of Uruk-hai, taking them completely by surprise. With a shout, Aragorn leapt over the distance, sword raised as he came down among the enemy.

 **Jumping** out of the way, Thennil raced up the stairs to the battlements, drawing her bow once again. She growls as the orcs shot an oversized crossbow up into the battlements, hooking onto the stone. Quickly she leaped up, slashing at the thick ropes that attacked the grappling hook to the wall with her short sword, others covered her with their bows and swords. More are fired, and the men desperately tried to dislodge them, pulling with all their might. Great ladders rose up out of the darkness, holding more orcs than the ones upon the Deeping Wall. Shielthing her sword, she shot at as many as she could, her arrows quickly finding their mark among the dark bodies of the beasts.

Over the fighting, a voice shouted earnestly. "Fall Back! Fall Back!"

Fighting among the men, she looked over those who remained, their anger overriding their fight or flight instincts. Among them were many of the young boys that had been thrust into the fight. Rushing towards them, she spotted Haleth standing back to back with his friends, battling against the great sea that poured over the walls. She roared, eyes glowing in the moonlight as the lightning flashed around them and the rain fell from the sky. She fought through the Uruk's violently, bursting through to the side of the youth's and calling to them.

"Fall back! They have broken through! The castle is breached! Retreat!" she cried, pushing them behind her as they retreated down the wall towards the inner court. Haleth and the others hurried along the wall, up to the door that led into the Hornburg. She took a blow to the shoulder, and stumbled at the weight of the spear embedded in it. The boys watched on in horror as the beast flooded onto the walkway behind them as they entered the door to the Hornburg. They called out, begging her to join them.

Ripping out the spear with one hand, she thrust her sword through the neck of the closest Orc before letting a small amount of her power. A blinding light flashed across the rampart, stopping many of the orcs in their tracks as they shielded their eyes from he awful light. Staggering, she nearly fell through the door, the boys slamming it behind her as she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes wearily. Blood dribbled down her shoulder, drying into her long red hair in brown streaks amid flaming red.

The boys were silent for a long time after that, observing her as she breathed in and out, the sweat that had beaded upon her brow dripping down her face along with the dried blood from scratches she had received. They barely dared to breath, fearing that they might disturb her if they did.

Finally, it was Haleth who spoke. "Are you alright, My Lady?"

Opening her eyes slowly, she looked up at their worried faces. There were nine of them, ranging from twelve to sixteen in age. All were stained with black blood, hair sticking out at odd angles, and amazingly unharmed. She nodded, easing up from her seat on the floor. As she began to sway, each rushed up to throw an arm over their shoulder, those who got there first glaring at the others. Over their heavy breathing, she could hear the muffled voices of the men. Standing straighter, she looked over each of them.

"You are unharmed?" she asked, taking each of the faces into her hand and looking into their eyes.

"Aye, we are, my Lady." said a skinny fellow, he looked to be the youngest of the group, blushing when she turned to look at him.

"Good."

"What now, my lady?" another asked, looking back at the door fearfully as the Uruk's hurled themselves at the thick thing.

"First,' she said with a weary smile,'My name is Thennil, so stop with the 'my lady' stuff."

They nodded while a few tried to say her name, "Thenndil, Thedil, Tennil?"

She shook her head, chuckling. "Trewrun if it easier for you to say, it is what your people called me long ago."

The lads blushed crimson, but their eyes grew large. "You're Trewrun?!"

"Aye,' she teased, though it didn't reach her eyes,' I am."

The youngest lad's jaw dropped.

"Shut your mouth, Henri, you'll catch flies,' joked one of the other boys, snapping his friends mouth shut with his hand.

She shook her head at their antics, "Come, we must meet with the others. I'm sure that they are wondering where we have all gotten to."

Down the halls they jogged, Thennil peeking into the healing room for a quick look to see how Haldir and the others were doing. She didn't stay for long, knowing that if she did, she wouldn't be able to pull herself away. It was with head held high that she trooped into the front room of the Keep at the head of the group of boys. The men turned from the great doors, gazing at the group in shock. Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn, pushed through the throng of men and elves to gape at her, tears forming in her lovers eyes.

"Not dead." she chuckled darkly.

Aragorn stomped up to her, eyes blazing. Taking a step back, she cocked her head to one side in confusion. She had thought that he would be happy to see her alive. Perhaps she had been wrong about his feelings...

"Right now I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off the edge of the highest cliff I can find." he hissed at her without venom.

Her eye grew wide, "Umm, well, can I pick?"

"No."

She gulped, looking over her shoulder at the boys, who quickly stepped in front of her, barring Aragorn from getting through. He raised his eyebrow in question, their eyes hard as they guarded her. From behind them she smirked.

"All that blood on you looks really good,' she whispered just loud enough for Aragorn to hear, 'Brings out your eyes."

He threw his arms up in the air, "What am I going to do with you, woman?"

"Not toss me off the side of a cliff?" she asked, edging out from behind the throng.

 **The** men leaned wearily upon their swords, watching the sky through the high window at the top of the room. They could hear the growls and yells of the Uruk's outside the hall, clamoring and clashing their weapons eagerly, smelling the fear that had begun creeping into their hearts. The gates lay in ruin, the battlements strewn with the dead.

Aragorn looked up at the pale stars, and at the moon, now sloping behind the western hills that enclosed the valley. "This is a night as long as years,' he murmured. 'How long will the day tarry?"

"Dawn is not far off,' said Gamling, who had sad down beside him. 'But dawn will not help us, I fear."

"Yet dawn is ever the hope of men,' said Aragorn.

"But these creatures of Isengard, these half-orc and goblin-men, and the Uruk-hai that the foul craft of Saruman has bred, they will not quail at the sun,' said Gamling. 'And neither will the wild men of the hills. Do you not hear their voices?"

"I hear them,' said Gimli, his ear's perking up at the noises from without. "But with all the orci-sh racket they are only the screams of birds and the bellowing of beast to my keen ears."

Thennil chuckled, remembering Bilbo complaining about all the dwarfish racket that had invaded his house all those years ago. "Yet there are many that cry in the Dunland tongue,' she said, listening intently. 'I know that tongue. It is an ancient speech of men, and once was spoken in many western valleys of the Mark. Hark! They hate us, and they are glad; for our doom seems certain to them,' she paused, face going blank as she listened to the other shouts that the enemy crowed from their seat outside the hall. 'I will not repeat what else they say, other than that in a half a thousand years they have not forgotten their grievances that the lords of Gondor gave the Mrak to Eorl the Young and made alliance with him. It is that old hatred that Saruman has inflamed within them. They are a fierce folk when roused."

"Nonetheless day will bring hope to me,' said Aragorn.

 **The** sky now was quickly clearing and the sinking moon was disappearing from sight. The enemy had grown it seemed, though not all of them battered upon their doors. The orcs brought their battering rams to their door, hitting it again and again, the doors shuddering with each swing. The growls from without grew louder and angrier as they waited for the doors to fall. Beams were found and brought to the door, barricading it, strengthening it. The King watched on in despair, shaking his greying head.

"The fortress is taken. It is over."

Aragorn hurried from among the throng, grabbing another beam and handing it to Legolas and Thennil before turning to Theoden.

"You said this fortress would never fall while your Men defend it. They still defend it. They have died defending it!"

"Is it not said that no foe has ever taken the Hornburg, if it's men defended it?" asked Gimli, staring up at the king.

"So the minstrels say,' replied Gamling.

Another deafening crunch echoed through the room as the battering ram made contact again. Aragorn looked around the hall frantically, then back at Theoden.

Thennil disconnected herself from the group barring the door, some of the boys following after her. They had become quiet enamored with her and her stories that she told as the night had worn on.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" she asked, looking towards the place were the door opened to the caves.

Theoden did not answer, looking down at the floor lost in thought.

"Is there no other way?!" she stormed, looking between the king and Gamling.

"There-there is one passage. It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many."

The door shudders once again. She turned to Gamling, pleading. "Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass. And barricade the entrance."

"So much death. What can Men do against such reckless hate?" wondered the king.

Another sickening crack echoed through the hall as one of the men ran down the corridor to the caves.

Aragorn paused, thinking deeply for a moment, lifting his face, his eyes flashed with determination. "Ride out with me."

The king turned to the ranger, confusion written all over his wrinkled features.

"Ride out and meet them."

A light began to glimmer in the kings eye, growing brighter by the second. "For death and glory."

"For Rohan. For your people."

Thennil turned her eyes to the ceiling of the hall, a smile coming to her face as Gimli spoke.

"The sun is rising."

Aragorn turned to the window, hope growing as the first light of the sun streamed through it.

A voice echoed in Thennil's mind, and she blinked. **_Look to my coming at the first light on the fifth day. At dawn...look to the east._**

"Yes. Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep one last time!"

Gimli stood, his axe raised in jubilation. "Yes!"

A great CRACK echoed through the room, and the battering ram threw the men to the ground. Scrambling up, they reenforced it with anything that was still salvageable, barring the door.

From outside the door the Uruk-hai began to call to them in their gravelly voices. "Come out! Come out! If you wish to speak to us, come out! Bring out your king! We are the fighting Uruk-hai. We will fetch him from his hole, if he does not come. Bring out your skulking king!"

Their harsh laughter echoed off the walls. Standing straight, Thennil stormed over to the door, weary though she was, and using a great deal of strength to keep standing. She glared out through the cracks in the might door, her eyes narrowing as she looked over the land as a sliver of light began to show over the slops of the mountains.

"The kings stays or comes at his own will,' she said, her voice filled with power, though her body weak.

"Then what are you doing in there?' they answered. 'Why do you look out, she-elf? Do you wish to see the greatness of our army? We are the fighting Uruk-hai of Isengard."

"I look out to see the dawn,' she said.

"What of the dawn?' they jeered. 'We are the Uruk-hai: we do not stop the fight for night or day, for fair weather or foul. We come to kill, by sun or moon. What of the dawn?"

"None knows what the new day shall bring him,' she said, watching the men bring the horses up to the hall, fully saddled.

Swinging up into her saddle, Thennil unsheathed her sword, steeling herself for the ride ahead. Far above them she knew that Gimli would be climbing the many stairs to reach the horn, and readied herself for the charge. And then, sudden and terrible, from the tower above the sound of the great horn of Helm rang out.

The door was cracked, and the Uruk's poured into the hall. It was then, with a mighty cry that the warriors charged. As they did, the horn blew again, and all that heard that sound trembled. Many of the Uruk's cast themselves on their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Back from the Deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood. Though they rode out with purpose, the men could not keep the awe off their faces as they rod, for the echoes did not die. Ever the horn blast wound on among the hills; nearer now and louder they answered one to another, blowing fierce and free.

"Helm! Helm!' the Riders shouted as they rode forth. 'Helm is arisen and comes back to war. Helm for Theoden King!"

And it was with that shout that the king and his men came. His horse was white as snow, golden was his shield, and his sword was long. At his right hand was Aragorn, slashing down at the enemy, Elendeil's heir, behind him rode the lords of the House of Eorl the Young. Light sprang in the sky. Night departed.

Down the road they charged, and through the main gate. Over the causeway thew few, knocking the Uruk's from it with their spears and swords as they blasted down the narrow walkway. They fought bravely, as it was their last stand. The cries of the Uruk's rang around them as they snarled and yelled. Thennil felt the new rush of adrenaline flood her veins, numbing her sense of pain and immense weariness. She let out her own war cry as she sliced through the Orcs violently. She fought so hard, and with so much focus that she did not hear the first cries of joy, but turned to see the sun rising over the ridge, flooding down into the deep with an army of horsemen, Gandalf at it's head.

So Eomer, son of Edmund, rode through the night to fight beside and for his king. The two parties joined in the middle of the battlefield, becoming one. Light grew bright about them. Shafts of the sun flared above the eastern hills and glimmered on their spears. And their they halted in amazement, and some in fear.

The land had changed. Where before the green dale had lain, its grassy slopes lapping the ever-mounting hills, there now a forest loomed. It's great tress, bare and silent, stood, rank on rank, with tangled bough and hoary head; their twisted roots buried in the long green grass. Darkness was under them. Between the Dike and the eaves of that seamless wood only two open furlongs lay. There now cowered the hosts of Saruman, in terror of the king, and in terror of the trees. Choosing to risk the trees rather than the battle ready Men, they hurried into the darkness beneath the heavy boughs.

Eomer's voice shouted out to all the men, a small vein of fear threaded through it. "Stay out of the forest! Keep away from the trees!"

From the shadow and darkness of that forest, none ever came again.

 **Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Hope that your Christmas' all came true!**

 **Love,**

 **Robin**


	52. Chapter 49

Thennil walked among the dead, both friend and foe, with a heavy heart. She was weary, both physically and emotionally. There were so many dead. So many that were to young to join Mandos in his halls. She had helped the men pile the Uruk bodies up into huge mounds, though one of them had told her to go rest when he saw her wince when her shoulder was pulled at an odd angle. And so, she had gone out looking for her people. She had found a good number wounded, and unconscious, but their numbers had grown considerably smaller. Legolas along with Aragorn and herself had collected the remains of her people, placing them in a long line across the stones. She knew that there was not much time to prepare a proper burial mound, but with the help of Eomer's men, they chose a spot not far from where the trees of Faghorn had come, upon a hill that over looked the valley and the trees. Using as many hands as possible, they dug a large pit, several feet deep, and many more wide. It took them nearly all that day and through the next, stopping to sleep for a few hours.

The women had emerged from the caves, and there was many shouts of joy, but just as many shouts of sorrow among them all. Eowyn had cried out louder than the rest at the sight of her brother, whom she had not seen in over a month since his banishment from Theoden's Halls under Grima's orders. The greeted each other heartily, Eowyn touching him with her hand or brushing him with her arm while he talked to their Uncle about what had happened. Once she was certain that he was truly there and unharmed, she had turned to the women, plans forming in her head. She began to take stock of their larders, and the healing herbs that were being used to take care of the wounded. She organized groups of riders to hunt upon the hills for the wild sheep and goats, others to search the surrounding farm fields for any leftover grain from the trampled harvests.

It was when they had paused in their work to look at the trees, Theoden and Gandalf among them, that they turned with questioning eyes to the old man. Some glanced darkly at the wood, which had not moved in the many hours and days that they had been working, passing their hands over their brows, as if they still thought their eyes saw otherwise.

Gandalf laughed long and merrily. "The tress?' he said. 'Nay, I see the wood as plainly as do you. But that is no deed of mine. It is a thing beyond the counsel of the wise. Better than my design, and better even than my hope the even has proved."

"Then if not yours, whose is the wizardry?' said Theoden. 'Not Saruman's, that is plain.' he looked over at Thennil, of whom he had seen the great blinding light during the battle.

"It was not my doing either, though I wonder..." she said, looking curiously into the dark trees.

"Then is there some mightier sage, of whom we have yet to learn?"

"It is not wizardry, but power far older,' said Gandalf: 'a power that walked the earth, ere elf sand or hammer rang.

 _Ere iron was found or tree was hewn,_

 _When young was mountain under moon;_

 _Ere ring was made, or wrought was woe,_

 _It walked the forests long ago."_

"And what may be the answer to your riddle?" asked the king, puzzled by the wizard as always.

"If you wish to learn that, I would suggest coming with me to Isengard,' answered the wizard.

"To Isengard?" cried the king, looking out over the plains.

"Yes,' said Gandalf, 'I shall return to Isengard, and those who will may come with me. There we may see strange things."

"But there are not men enough in the Mark, not if they were all gathered together and healed of wounds and weariness, to assault the stronghold of Saruman,' said Theoden, angered.

"Perhaps we shall not need them,' Thennil said from her resting spot upon one of the chairs that resided close to the window. Her long hair was tied back in a tight braid that trailed down her back, and where her skin had been paler than the moon, color had returned.

The king shook his head.

"Nevertheless to Isengard I go,' said Gandalf. "I shall not stay there long. My way lies now eastward. Look for me in Edoras, ere the waning of the moon!"

"Nay!' cried the king. 'In the dark hour before dawn I doubted, but we will not part now. I will come with you, if that is your counsel."

"I wish to speak with Saruman, as soon as may be now,' said the wizard, 'and since he has done you great injury, it would be fitting if you were there. But how soon and how swiftly will you ride?"

"My men are weary with battle,' said the King; 'and I am weary also. For we have ridden far, fought much, and slept little. Alas! My old age is not feigned nor due only to the whisperings of Wormtongue. It is an ill that no leech can wholly cure not even Gandalf."

Thennil looked up, her own weariness had not abated, in fact it had seemed to grow, but she had begun to wall it up within her mind. She stood, and put a hand on the kings arm, where his skin was bare. Within a few seconds, he was looking stronger, and more rested, if that were possible. Across the room Aragorn glared at her from under dark eyebrows, worry pinching his features.

"Then let all who are to ride with me rest now,' said Gandalf. 'We will journey under the shadow of evening. It is as well; for it is my counsel that all our comings and goings should be as secret as may be, henceforth. But do not command many men to go with you, Theoden. We go to a parley not to a fight."

 **It** was then that the King chose men that were unhurt and had swift horses, and he sent them forth with tidings of their victory into every vale of the Mark; and they bore his summons also, bidding all men, young and old, to come in haste to Edoras. He had decided that there he would hold an assembly of all that could bear arms, on the third day after the full moon. To ride with him to Isengard the King chose Eomer and twenty men of his household, cousins, second cousins, and further distant relations. With Gandalf would go Aragorn, the two elves, Legolas and Thennil, and Gimli. In spite of their hurt, both Thennil and the dwarf refused to stay behind.

The dwarf argued with Aragorn gesturing to his head, 'It was only a feeble blow and the cap turned it."

Thennil knew that it could also be that he was hoping to change the 'scores' between Legolas and himself, which they had counted up during the battle.

"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,' grumbled the ranger, glancing over to Thennil pointedly, 'You wouldn't sit and wait for anything."

The dwarf chuckled.

"Much like his father,' Thennil stated, slapping the dwarf roughly on the shoulder. He winced.

"I will tend it, while you rest,' said Aragorn.

That night as she was preparing for bed, Thennil checked her own wound. She had cleaned it after the battle, washing it in lavender water, pouring a wine used for wounds over it alternately. Using her fingers, she probed the wound gently, wincing when she found a tender spot. It had begun to heal rather nicely after she had stitched it up one-handed. Another scar to add to her collection of white marks. She had just pulled her loose undershirt over her head when the door burst open.

A feminine gasp echoed through the room as the door slammed shut. Whipping around, covering herself, being only in scantly clad undergarments. Eowyn stood in shock, back pressed up against the door, hands covering her mouth. Thennil was sure that she had never seen the shield maiden look so combobulated.

"You-you-you're...

"Covered in scars?" she provided.

"Nay, you're beautiful!" gasped the woman, causing Thennil's mouth to drop open.

"What?"

Eowyen hurried on, rushing through her words. "Under all your layers I couldn't quite tell that you were female, you looked quite like Lord Legolas, flat as a board."

Thennil laughed, "You had better not say anything like that around him. He has worked ever so hard to build up his muscle."

"Then it must be lean muscle, not brawny like my brothers,' laughed Eowyn in return.

Their laughter died, and Thennil went to pull on the nightgown that Eowyn had lent her. She could feel the woman eyes on her chest and shoulders, going over the long, puckered scar that resided there.

"I know you're probably wondering where I got it from,' she stated, pulling the gown over her head, it covered her from the neck down to just above her ankles, she was taller than the woman.

Eowyn blushed, turning away. "I didn't want to intrude-

"The Witch King gave it to me,' she said, her hand tracing over the scar before reaching up to her eye.

Eowyn remained silent, but turned to look back at Thennil. Her eyes grew wide as she looked over the woman's face in confusion.

"Your eye? It looked normal a second ago? What-

Thennil chuckled, though it was without humor. "Magic, young one. Magic."

Eowyn growled, her eyes narrowing. "Why must you hide it? It is a mark of honor, and only adds to your beauty."

Thennil smiled, shaking her head. "While it is a mark of honor among the warriors of any people, among the women of my kindred it is seen as distasteful, disgusting. Though women are allowed to be warriors, it is not very common. Women are known for their arts, weaving, spinning, jewelry making, or as scholars. I am a strange phenomenon."

"Among my people, any who bare a battle scar are held in high honor. In one of Brego's sayings, he said 'Our scars tell a story, they are proof you survived. They are marks of strength, resilience, and perseverance. They remind us that when life tried to break us, but we overcame.'" Eowyn, looked up into Thennil's eyes, strength sparking in their depths. "Wear them with pride."

Tears threatened to flood down her cheeks, and her eyes became glassy while her throat tightened, 'Thank you, Eowyn." she choked out.

The slight woman pulled her into a hug, "Think nothing of it, my friend."

They held one another tightly, enjoying the warmth of another person who understood.

 **That** night the king returned to the Hornburg, and slept, such a sleep of quiet as he had not known for many years, and the remainder of his chosen company rested also. But while the king and his company lay sleeping, others who were not hurt or wounded, began a great labour, for those who had fallen were buried, but their enemy still lay dead upon the field or in the Deep.

No Orcs remained alive; their bodies were uncounted. But a great many of the hillmen had given themselves up rather than chance the anger of the trees; and they were sore afraid, and cried for mercy.

The Men of the Mark took their weapons from them, and set them to work under the moon.

"Help now to repair the evil which you have joined,' said Erkenbrand, one of the Kings trusted advisors, and a great warrior; 'and afterwards you shall take an oath never again to pass the Fords of Isen in arms, nor to march with the enemies of Men; and then you shall go free back to your land. For you have been deluded by Saruman. Many of you have got death as the reward of your trust in him; but had you conquered, little better would your wages have been."

The men of Dunland were amazed; for Saruman had told them that the men of Rohan were cruel and burned their captives alive.

In the midst of the field before the Hornburg two mounds were raised, and beneath them were laid all the Riders of the Mark who fell in the defense, those of the East Dales upon one side, and those of Westfold upon the other. The families had bidden their dead farewell, wishing them safe travels to their Maker's halls with many tears and weeping. Those that had perished from among the men of Dunland were set apart in a mound below the Dike. In a grave alone under the shadow of the Hornhurg they lay Hama, who had failen on their journey to the Deep, captain of the King's guard.

The Orcs and Uruk's were piled in great heaps, away from the mounds of Men and that of the Elves, not far from the eaves of the forest. And the people were troubled in their minds; for the heaps of carrion were to great for burial or for burning, so great was their number. They had little wood for firing, and none would have dared take an axe to the strange trees, even if Gandalf had not warned them to hurt neither bark nor bough at their great peril.

"Let the Orcs and Uruk-hai lie,' the wizard told them. 'The morning may bring new counsel."

 **In** the afternoon of the next day the King's company prepared to depart. The work of the burial of the men ws but beginning; and Theoden mourned for the loss of Hama, his captain and cast the first earth upon his grave. "Great injury indeed has Saruman done to me and all this land,' he said; 'and I will remember it when we meet."

Thennil stood next to the many boys she had saved, only one of them had perished, Arion, an orc cutting him down from behind. They mourned those that they had lost as their families hung onto them, weeping. It pained her to see such young children given the responsibility of caring for their families, watching over and protecting them in the years to come. She had experienced death so much in her long life, had watched so many good men fade from the world because of the evil that dwelled within it.

The sun was already nearing the hills upon the west of the Coomb, when at last Theoden and Gandalf and their companions rode down from the Dike. Behind them were gathered a great host, both of the Riders and those of the Elves who had recovered from their wounds, Haldir numbered among them. It was not only the men that went out with them, but the people of the Westfold, old and young, women and children, who had come out from the caves. A song of victory they sang with clear voices, the elves singing their own version in their language, the notes echoing off of the stones; and then they fell silent, wondering what would chance, for their eyes were on the trees and they feared them.

Gandalf gazed over the land rolling away in front of them, concern written across his wrinkled face, "Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift. The battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle-earth is about to begin. All our hopes now lie with two little hobbits..."

The Riders came to the wood, and they halted; horse and man, they were unwilling to pass in. The trees were a pasty grey and menacing, and a shadow or a mist was about them. The ends of their long, heavy boughs hung down like searching fingers, their roots stood up from the ground like the limbs of strange monsters, and dark caverns opened beneath them. But Gandalf and the elves went forward, leading the company, and where the road from the Hornburg met the trees they saw now an opening like an arched gate under mighty boughs; and through it they passed, the elves looking up and around them in wonder at the ancient wood that passed them. Then to their amazement they found that the road ran on, and the Deeping-stream beside it; and the sky was open above and full of golden light that seemed to flicker here and there through the trees like stars in their shadows.

On either side of the path the trees were already wrapped in dusk, stretching away into impenetrable shadows; and there they heard the creaking and groaning of boughs, and far cries, and a rumor of wordless voices, murmuring angrily. No Orc or other living creature could be seen.

Thennil and the other elves rode closer to the trees, listening to their voices with interest, and humming in response. Legolas and Gimli rode together upon one horse; and they kept close beside Gandalf, for Gimli was afraid of the wood.

"It is hot in here,' said Legolas to Gandalf. 'I feel a great wrath about me. Do you not feel the air throb in your ears?"

"Yes,' replied the wizard, looking about them. 'But there is also joy at seeing their younger companions again."

"What has become of the miserable Uruk-hai?" said Legolas.

"That, I think, no one will ever know,' said Gandalf.

They rode in silence for a while; but Thennil was ever glancing from side to side, and would often have halted to listen to the sound of wood, if she had not wanted to keep up with Aragorn as he rode. The ranger seemed very wary of the woods, but his eyes were not only filled with fear, but a small inkling of awe.

"These are the strangest trees that I have ever seen,' she said; 'and I have seen more than one oak grown from acorn to ruinous age. I wish that there were leisure now to walk among them: they have voices, and I have heard a few things that I recognize, and their thought is not so different from other woods that I have walked."

From beside her where Legolas and the dwarf rode, Gimli spoke: "No, no! Let us leave them! I guess their thought already: hatred of all that goes on two legs; and their speech is of crushing and strangling."

"Not of all that goes on two legs,' Legolas said down to Gimli. 'There I think you are wrong. It is Orcs that they hate. For they do not belong here and know little of Elves and Men. Far away are the valleys where they sprang. From the deep dales of Fangorn, Gimli, that is from whence they came, I guess."

"Then that is the most perilous wood in Middle-earth,' declared the dwarf, looking about them. 'I should be grateful for the part they have played, but I do not love them. You and Legolas may think them wonderful, Thennil, but I have seen a greater wonder in this land, more beautiful than any grove or glade that ever grew: my heart is still full of it.

'Strange are the ways of Men, Legolas!' said the dwarf, speaking now only to his mount-mate, 'Here they have one of the marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! Caves! Holes to fly to in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, do you know that the caverns of Helm's Deep are vast and beautiful? There would be an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance!"

Thennil chuckled softly, 'Only a dwarf who knew his stone would marvel so at the walls of the caverns deep within the Deep."

Aragorn smirked.

"And I would give gold to be excused,' replied the elf, shuddering at the thought of the caves; 'and double to let out, if I strayed in!"

"You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,' huffed Gimli. 'But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mrikwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns that I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zaram in the starlight."

The dwarf went on into detailed description of the caverns, from the walls to the jewels, to the veins of gold and silver. He spoke passionately about the natural beauty that lay beneath the mountain. On and on he went, speaking of what the dwarves would do with such amazing stones, his voice filled with awe. The colors so vibrant and fresh, the twinkling of a thousand crystals upon the walls like stars in the sky. Legolas listened intently, and his distaste seemed to fade from his face as he leaned his ear down to the dwarf to hear better.

"You move me, Gimli,' said Legolas. 'I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain-if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey for w while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm's Deep."

"That would not be the way of return that I should choose,' said Gimli, looking out into the woods around them. 'But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves and share their wonder with me."

"You have my promise,' said the elf. 'But alas! now we must leave behind both cave and wood for a while."

 **They** rode through the night, and as the sun was rising in the east, they travelled along an ancient highway that ran down from Isengard to the crossings. For some way it took them through the land, following the river as it bended east and north. They entered the woods yet again, Gandalf in the lead as their path turned towards Isengard. They came to the feet of the Misty Mountains, and the long arms of Nan Curunir stretched down to meet them. Dark lay the vale before them, for the moon had passed into the West, and its light was hidden by the hills. But out of the deep shadow of the dale rose a vast spire of smoke and vapour; as it mounted, it caught the rays of the sinking moon, and spread in shimmering billows, black and silver, over the starry sky.

"What do you think of that, Gandalf?' asked Aragorn.

Thennil watched the smoke closely, eyes squinting as the tried to get past the plums. "One would say that all the Wizard's Vale was burning."

"There is ever a fume above that valley in these days,' said Gamling, 'but I have never seen aught like this before. These are steams rather than smokes. Saruman is brewing some devilry to greet us. Maybe he is boiling all the waters of Isen, and that is why the river runs dry."

"Maybe he is,' said Gandalf. 'Today we shall learn what he is doing. Now let us go."

The light came grey and pale, and they did not see the rising of the sun until it was far over head, the light barely making it's way through the trees. The air above was heavy with fog, and a reek lay on the land about them. They went slowly, riding now upon the crooked path. Dimly through the mists they could descry the long arm of the mountains rising on their left. They passed into Nan Curunir, the Wizard's Vale. That was a sheltered valley, open only to the South. Once it had been fair and green, and through it the Isen flowed, already deep and strong before it found the plains; for it was fed by many springs and lesser streams among the rain-washed hills, and all about it there had lain a pleasant, fertile land.

It was not so now.

Exiting from the twisted trees, they came upon a curious sight. Sitting atop the smashed wall were two small figures. They lounged upon the broken stones like they were at a banquet, pipes in hand as they blew smoke rings up into the sky. Platers and plates filled with all sorts of things littered the rocks about them as if they had just eaten a large meal, and now rested from their labour. One seemed to be quite asleep, lazing across the stones with his arm thrown over his eyes, and a smoking pipe dangling from his fingers; the other, with crossed legs and arms behind his head, leaned back against a broken rock and sent from his mouth long wisps and little rings of thin blue smoke. Upon seeing the group emerging from the woods, they jumped up from their seats in jubilation. Smiles broke out on the faces of all present as the hobbits short figures bowed low before them.

"Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard." stated Merry, arms thrown wide. 'We are the door wardens. Meriadoc, son of Sradoc is my name; and my companion'- he elbowed his friend-'is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the House of Took. Far in the North is our home. The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted within his dark tower, doubtless he would be here to welcome such honorable guests if he so chose."

Theoden and his men looked on in amazed wonder. Amid all the wreck of Isengard this seemed to be quite the strangest sight that they had seen that day. but before the king could speak, Gimli beat him to the punch.

"You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you, feasting and smoking!" accused Gimli.

Pippin and Merry searched the group with their eyes, Pippin shoving food into his mouth and chewing loudly. He lifted his nose in the air.

"We are sitting on a field of victory,' he motioned to the land around them. 'enjoying a few well-earned comforts.'

Gimli looked at them eagerly as Merry puffed on his pipe.

"The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork?" asked the dwarf, suddenly very interested.

"Hobbits." muttered the wizard, shaking his head.

Thennil rolled her eyes at his dismissal, she knew he was just as excited to see the halflings as they were.

"We're under orders, from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard. He commanded me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."

"And what about your companions? What about Legolas and me?' cried Gimli, unable to contain himself. 'Where did you come by the weed, you villains? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!"

"You speak for me, Gimli,' laughed Legolas. 'Though I would sooner learn how they came by the wine sitting there."

Theoden looked over the halflings in awe, looking them up and down. "So these are the lost ones of your company, Gandalf? The days are fated to be filled with marvels. Already I have seen many since I left me house; and now here before my eyes stand yet another of the folk of legend. Are these not the Halflings, that some among us call the Holbytlan?"

"Hobbits, if you please, lord,' said Pippin, stretching his small frame taller.

"Hobbits?' said Theoden. 'Your tongue is strangely changed; but the name sounds not unfitting so. Hobbits! No report that I have heard does justice to the truth."

Pippin chuckled, hanging on to Merry.

"For on thing,' said Theoden, 'I had not heard that they spouted smoke from their mouths."

"That is not surprising,' answered Merry, ever the historian of the duo; 'for it is an art which we have not practiced for more than a few generations. It was Kobold Hornblower, of Longbottom in the Southfarthing, who first grew the true pipe-weed in his gardens, about the year 1070 according to our reckoning. How old Toby came by the plant..."

"You do not know the danger, Theoden,' interrupted Gandalf. 'These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the pleasures of the table, or the small doing of their fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers, and remoter cousins to the ninth degree, if you encourage them with undue patience. Some other time would be more fitting for the history of smoking. Where is Treebeard, Merry?"

"Away on the north side, I believe. I shall show you where, for it is quite a mess within the walls,' and so saying Merry hurried to the edge of the stones as the group began to trot towards them through the opening in the ring. Suddenly there was a shout from the hobbits, causing all to whip around to see what the commotion was about.

"Nelly!" the darlings shouted, leaping from their perch atop the stone rubble and into her open arms. She held them tightly, breathing in their fresh earthy sent, though they were in desperate need of a bath. They somehow situated themselves in front of her chatting up a storm about what they had seen and done, and how much they had missed her and the others. She smiled as they directed Gandalf and the others through the mirky waters of what was left of Isengard.

The king and all his company sat silently on their horses, marveling, perceiving that the power of Saruman was overthrown; but how they could not entirely guess. Pippin and Merry inserted comments here and there as they sloshed through the mud, but were not altogether forthcoming with any news that was of great interest. The water bubbled around them like a cauldron, in which there heaved and floated a wreckage of beams and spars, chests and casks and broken gear. Twisted and leaning pillars reared their splintered heads above the flood, but all the roads were drowned. Far off, it seemed, half field in a winding cloud, there loomed the island rock. Still dark and tall, unbroken by the storm that surrounded it, the tower of Orthanc stood.

A great Ent began to walk towards them, nodding to Gandalf as he did so. The others shrank away as he approach, their eyes growing wide with fear.

"Burarum...Young Master Gandalf. I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master, but there's a Wizard to be managed here...locked away in his tower."

 **And so we end our journey for today at the doors of Isengard and that of the enemy, Saruman.**

 **Thanks for reading my lovelies! Have a Happy New Year!**

 **Robin**


	53. Chapter 50

"Well, well! The hunt is over, and we meet again at last, where none of us ever thought to come,' said Aragorn.

"And now the hunters can perhaps learn the answers to their own riddles.' said Legolas, peering over at the hobbits seated before and behind Thennil on her horse. 'We tracked you as far as the forest, but there are still many things I should like to know the truth of."

"And there is a great deal, too, that we want to know about you,' said Merry, looking up into Thennil's face, glancing at her revealed eye now and again. 'We have learnt a few things through Treebeard, the Old Ent, but that is not nearly enough."

"All in good time,' said Legolas. 'We were the hunters, and you should give an account of yourselves to us first."

"I would like to know how you got through your journey unharmed as you are,' Thennil whispered into Pippin's ear as he stood up on the back of the horse to get a better look around them.

"Or second,' said Gimli. 'It would go better after a meal. I have a sore head; and it is past mid-day. You truants might make amends by finding us some of the plunder that you were sporting upon the wall. Food and drink would pay off some of my score against you."

Thennil laughed out loud, crystal voice ringing, something that she hadn't done since before Aragorn fell. "I am reminded again and again of your father, Gimli."

The others turned to her curiously, and she explained. 'Glorin was unsure of my people's welcome into Rivendell when Thorin's company came through, and only after food and drink were offered, along with a warm bed, did he agree to lay down his weapons."

Gimli smirked, 'You never know what to think of that airy place, we all thought you elves survived on dew and greens, so thin you all are. Once meat was offered, of course a dwarf would accept."

Pippin bounced behind her, gripping her shoulders with his small fingers as the horse stumbled.

"Then you shall have it,' he said. 'Will you have it here, or in more comfort in what's left of Saruman's guard-house-over there under the arch? We had to picnic out here, so as to keep an eye on the road."

"Less than an eye!' said Gimli. 'But I will not go into any orc-house; nor touch Orc's meat or anything that they have mauled."

"We wouldn't ask you to,' said Merry, offended. 'We have had enough of Orcs and Uruk's to last a life-time. But there were many other folk in Isengard. Saruman kept enough wisdom not to trust his Orcs. He had Men to guard his gates: some of his most faithful servants, I suppose. Anyway they were favored and got good provisions."

"And pipe-weed?' asked Gimli, gazing at their still smoking pipes that they would take a guzzle of ever few minutes.

"No, I don't think so,' laughed Merry from his perch. 'But that is another story, which can wait until after lunch."

"And until after we deal with the wizard, I should say,' said Gandalf.

"Aye, but I had better get some of that salted pork before we leave,' grumbled the dwarf. 'I say let's just have his head and be done with it."

"No.' spoke Gandalf quietly, looking up the long length of the dark tower. 'We need him alive. We need him to talk."

Thennil glanced around at the flooded ruins of Isengard, remembering riding up the path and through it's once great gates. It had been a beautiful place once, full of life and living creatures bounding here and there.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden King and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend?  
Can we not have peace you and I?" the voice of the white wizard echoed around them, though his form they could see upon a small balcony far above them.

Theoden's face was blank for a moment before his emotions flashed across it. Anger, frustration, betrayal, and sorrow for those lost. He looked up at the face of Saruman with its dark solemn eyes bent down upon him, and the to Gandalf at his side; and he seemed to hesitate. Gandalf made no sign; but stood silent as stone, as one waiting patiently for someone to call that has not yet come. Lifting up his face, he spoke with great feeling, voice swelling. "We shall have peace . We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows we shall have peace!"

Saruman looked down on them, unpraturbed, leaning on his dark staff. "Gibbets and crows! Dotard! What do you want Gandalf Grahame? Let me guess the key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys of Barad Dur itself? Along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

Gandalf looked up at his long time friend in sadness, though there was a deep anger flickering just below the surface. "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemies counsel."

The white wizard's eyebrows rose, and he nodded. "So you have come here for information?' he smirked. 'I have some for you."

He lifted up a large round stone, that seemed to flicker with images, though not those that were around them. Thennil could feel that dark power that radiated from it, old and cunning. The wizard gazed into the ball intently, his words dark and forbidding.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the great eye has seen it! Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." he paused, looking deeper into the stone, eyes glazing over. Gandalf rode forward, worry blooming in his mind at the changed demeanor of his friend. He had hoped that there was still some of his old friend buried deep within this seemingly new Saruman.

"You are all going to die! But you know this don t you Gandalf?' asked the wizard, his gaze sweeping over the company, landing on Aragorn and Thennil who rode close to one another. He sneered in disgust. "You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned King. And the she-elf? You think that she will live through this fight? She weakens. Elrond was foolish to let her join you, she could have been saved."

Aragorn looked over at her, concerned. She shook her head, and placed a hand on him reassuringly, though in her heart she cringed at the truth of the wizards words. She had grown weaker. Slowly, drop by drop, she could feel her strength waining.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those who are closest to him those he professes to love! Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

The Riders of Rohan sat uneasily upon their horses, on either side of their King and those with them, glaring darkly up at the great tower and the wizard that stood upon it's top.

"Hear me, oh Saruman,' cried Eomer suddenly, anger flowing through his veins. 'Now we feel the peril that we were warned of. Have we ridden forth to victory, only to stand at last cowed by an old liar with honey on his forked tongue? So would the trapped wolf speak to the hounds, if he could. What aid can we expect from one such as you? All you desire is to escape from your plight. But will we parley with this dealer in treachery and murder?' his voice shook, emotion threatened to burst forth unchecked. 'Remember Theodred at the Fords, and the grave of Hama in Helm's Deep!"

"If we speak of poisoned tongues what shall we say of yours, young serpent?" said Saruman, and the flash of his anger was now plain to see. 'But come, Eomer, Edmund's son!' he went on in his soft voice again. 'To every man his part. Velour in arms is yours, and you win high honor thereby. Slay whom your lord names as enemies, and be content. Meddle not in policies which you do not understand. But maybe, if you become a king, you will find that he must choose his friends with care. The friendship of Saruman and the powers of Orthanc cannot be lightly thrown aside, whatever grievances, real or fancied, may lie behind. You have won a battle, but not a war."

"Winning a battle is only the first step in winning a war." Thennil called up to him as Merry and Pippin hoped onto both Aragorn and Eomer's horses, trying to get a better look at the wizard.

He sniffed.

"Stick an arrow in his gob already,' growled Gimli.

Legolas reached back for an arrow from his quiver.

"No! Come down Saruman and your life will be spared!" cried Gandalf, Thennil leapt from her horse, thankful for her boots that went over her knees, and looked up at the wizard.

"Saruman, come down, you were once a great wizard, and your wisdom was known across Middle-earth, join us!"

The white wizard snarled, "Save your pity and your mercy,' he spat, a ball of fire forming in front of him, 'I have no use for it!"

With a flick of his fingers, the ball of flame flew down and engulfed them. Thennil let her magic surround her, a golden like haze glittering around her like dust. The fire raged around them, trying to eat at their clothes; the heat of it's flame was immense. The other's shielded their bodies from the heat of the flame, backing away in fear. With a wave of his staff and a few well placed spells, Gandalf dissipated the flames, leaving them both mostly unharmed. She leaned against Gandalf's mount, blinking her eyes as she regained her breath.

"Saruman, your staff is broken!" The black staff held within the wizards hand burst asunder, splintering into numerous pieces, and a great flash of light bursting out from it, dissipating into the air. Behind the shocked wizard, a dark form approached. Those below raised their eyebrows, for this was Wormtongue, he who had fled from their halls not many days since. The man looked pale, sickly even. His hair, which had always been greasy, now blew in the wind, and his eye bulged out like those of a frog from his face. He was hunched over quite like an old man, bent by the weight of his transgressions.

Theoden was shocked most of all, but found his voice quickly. "Grima! You need not follow him! You were not always as you were now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

"A Man of Rohan?' snarked the wizard, his voice deep. 'What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll among the straw with the dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbet themselves. But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will, but the victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Theoden Horse Master. You are a lesser son of Greater Sires."

"Keep talking,' she said, glaring up at the wizard, 'Maybe for once you'll say something intelligent."

He glared down at her, his eyes like a roaring flame. Theoden turned to Grima, a pleading tone coming into his voice. "Grima. Come down. Be free of him!"

Saruman began to laugh, 'Free? He will never be free."

"No,' said Grima.

Twisting around, Saruman slapped the man. "Get down, you cur!"

Grima cried out, falling to the ground with the incredible force of the blow. He had seen brute strength before, but coming from what looked to be an old man, he hadn't expected it.

"Saruman, you were deep within the enemies counsel, tell us what you know!" Gandalf asked again.

"Withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here,' he stated, but was cut off from any other words by the plunging of a knife into his back. In a breath Legolas had drawn his bow and shot an arrow, sinking it deep into the chest of Wormtongue. Then the wizard was falling, head over foot down the long length of the tower, his long white hair flying this way and that in the wind as it swept past him in his fall. And as he fell, something heavy shining thing came hurtling down from above. It was with finality that the wizard landed upon one of the spiked wheels that he had had built to help in the destruction of Rohan and it's people.

"Send word to all our allies and to the ends of Middle Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike." said Gandalf, turning his eyes from the limp form of his former friend.

Treebeard looked down at the company, then out over the waters that had washed over Isengard. "The filth of Saruman is washing away...Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wild trees."

Thennil shook herself, a vision of a blooming Isengard, full of life, but no longer a dark tower, but white flashed across her minds eye. She could even hear the singing of the trees, ancient ones with the young, flowing over a nonexistent breeze. "I do believe you're right, Treebeard."

"Pippin!"

Twisting around, while still leaning upon Shadowfax, she watched as the hobbit sloshed through the water towards something. Leaning down, he plucked a great dark stone from the water, turning it this way and that with curiosity. He even shook it a few times, and prodded it's dark surface before Gandalf guided Shadowfax forward, leaving Thennil without her crutch.

She stiffened her back, and whistled lowly to her steed, who splashed through the water towards her. She did not hear anything else that Gandalf said, her body screaming at her as she pulled herself back up into the saddle. She breathed long and deep, her eyes blurring for a few seconds as she tried to get her equilibrium back into place. Her steed must have sensed her discomfort, and shifted gently under her until she was sitting completely in the saddle. Haldir rode up next to her, glancing over her in concern, his eyes asking questions she did not wish to answer. Shaking her head, she straighten and took up the reigns of her horse, following after the others as they rode away, turning their backs on the crumbled doors of Orthanc.

Gandalf wished to speak more with Treebeard, and encouraged the others to see what could be salvaged from the storehouses of Saruman. Pippin and Merry led them on their merry way, weaving in between the decimation that was the Orthanc. They passed under an arch and came to a wide door upon their left, at the stop of a stair. It opened into a large chamber, with other smaller doors at the far end, and a hearth and chimney at one side. The chamber had been hewn from stone, and was rough in it's make, it was dark, for the windows within it's walls looked out only into a tunnel. But light came through from the broken roof above them.

There along the side of the hearth were a pile of logs and fagots, and beside them was a box of kindling. It didn't take Gimli long to light a fire and have it roaring in the hearth, lighting up more of the room.

"I like a bit of fire,' said Pippin. 'It cheers me up when I look out into the fog."

Merry looked out the door again. "We weren't able to light it ourselves, seeing as most of it was wet when we found it."

Gimli looked up into the chimney, sniffing the air. "There looks to be a great drought in this chimney: it seems to wind away up through the rock, but I can smell the fresh air, so fortunately it has not been blocked up."

"I shall make us some toast,' said Pippin. 'The bread is three or hour days old, I am afraid."

Thennil and the other set about looking through the food there, finding barrels of salted pork, apples, and many other things. Though they had to be careful, seeing as many things had gone bad or had started to wilt, they created quite a feast for themselves. It was quite lucky that the store-room had been located above the flood levels, saving most of the food from being washed away. Pippin and Merry came through the door piled high with all sorts of dishes from bowls to cups, to knives, and other things.

"You need not turn up your nose at the provender, Master Gimli,' pipped up Merry with a chuckle. 'This is not orc-stuff, but man-food, as Treebeard calls it. Will you have wine or beer? There's a barrel inside there-very passable. And this is first-rate salted pork. Or I can cut you some rashers of bacon and broil them, if you like.'

He turned to Legolas and Thennil, who were looking over the wilted, and somewhat slimy remains of lettuce and other vegetables. "I'm sorry there is no green stuff that has lasted well: the deliveries have been rather interrupted in the last few days! I cannot offer you anything to follow but butter and honey for your bread. Are you content?"

"Indeed yes,' said Gimli. 'The score is much reduced."

"Elves are able to eat meat too, dear Merry,' said Thennil, plucking a piece of bacon from the pan where it sat over the fire and plopping the piece into her mouth.

The hobbits gapped at her, and Legolas shrugged his shoulders, snagging a piece just as quickly from the pan and snapping off one end to eat it. They both smirked, and she "hmmmmmmm'd" with delight, it had been a while since she had tasted a good piece of meat.

It was as they all sat down at the table that the group began laying into the halflings, questions bursting forth from their mouths in rapid succession. Gimli was soon smoking on a spare pipe that the hobbits had on them as they all listened to their curious tale. They spent most of the afternoon like that, reclining at the table and exchanging stories back and forth, recounting their adventures together. Merry and Pippin were immensely curious of the Rohirrim that had come with them to Isengard, peppering them with questions about the riders, their horses, and the strange fact that they had only thought that halflings were legends. It was good to see them alive and well.

 **They** returned now to the ruins of the wall. Hardly had they passed out under the arch, when from among the shadows of piled stones where they had stood, Treebeard and a dozen other Ents came striding up. Aragorn, Gimli, Thennil and Legolas gazed up at them in wonder.

"Here are four of my companions, Treebeard,' said Gandalf, motioning to them. The Old Ent looked at them long and searchingly, and spoke to them in turn. He looked over Legolas and Thennil with interest. "So you have come all the way from Kirkwood, my good Elf? A very great forest it used to be!"

"And it still is,' said Legolas. 'But not so great that we who dwell there ever tire of seeing new trees. I should dearly love to journey in Fangorn's Wood. I scarcely passed beyond the eaves of it, and I did not wish to turn back."

Treebeard's eyes gleamed with pleasure. 'I hope you may have your wish, ere the hills be much older,' he said.

He continued to speak to the elf, talking about the future. Thennil, began to help the hobbits mount up with the other's, Merry behind Aragorn, and Pippin joining her on her steed. It was as they turned to leave that at last the master of Fangorn spoke to her.

"Long have you lived alone, young one,' he stated. 'And many adventures you have had, but I do not think that you will ever make it back to see my woods."

She had been smiling, but not the light of it had dimmed, and he placed one of his limb like fingers on her shoulder. "Many years may pass before you dwell under the trees again, and time will flow by like a river, never stopping."

It was with those words that he left her as they hurried through the woods.

The sun was sinking below the horizon of the mountains when Gandalf and his companions, and the King and his Riders, set out again from Isengard. Two of the king's men went on ahead, riding swiftly, and passed soon out of sight down into the valley. The others followed at an easy pace. Sunlight was shining in the sky, but long shadows reached over Isengard: grey ruins falling into darkness. Treebeard stood alone there now, like the distant stump of an old tree: the hobbits thought of their first meeting, upon the sunny ledge far away on the borders of Fangorn.

"Are we riding far tonight, Aragorn?' asked Merry after a while. 'I don't know how you feel with small rag-tag dangling behind you; but the rag-tag is tired and will be glad to stop dangling and lie down."

"So you heard that earlier did you?' chuckled Aragorn, looking back towards where they had come. "Don't worry my friend! Be thankful that his words are no longer aimed at you. He had his eyes on you. If it is any comfort to your pride, I should say that, at the moment, you and Pippin are more in his thoughts than all the rest of us. Who you are; how you came there, and why; what you know; whether you were captured, and if so, how you escaped when the Uruk-hai perished-it is with those riddles that the great Saruman worried over."

Thennil, who had been eavesdropping, though not intentionally, as elves have superior hearing anyway, broke into the conversation. "A sneer from him, Meriadoc, is a compliment, if you felt so honored by his concern. He was like that for most of his existence. I can think of many times within our counsel's that he would treat me much the same, though I despised him from the beginning."

"Thank you!' said Merry, leaning against Aragorn in front of him like a pillow.

"I think that Gandalf plans to ride on for a few more hours, gently by the looks of it if I know him well, until we com etc the end of the valley. Tomorrow we will ride faster. We plan on being back in the King's house at Edoras over the plains, a ride of a few days if we continue at this slow pace."

The road passed slowly, winding down the valley and then through the trees at the other end. Now further they flew, over Sen's flowing bed. Night came down from the mountains. All the mists were gone. A chill wind blew. The moon, now waxing round, filled the eastern sky with a pale cold sheen. The shoulders of the mountain to their right sloped down to bare hills. The wide plains opened grey before them.

It was at long last that they halted. Turning aside, they left the highway and taking to sweet upland turf again. Then they entered a dale. It opened up before them, green footed and crowned with heather. The sides of it were shaggy with last year's bracken, among which the tight-curled fronds of spring were just thrusting through the sweet-scented earth. Thorn bushes grew thick in clumps along the low banks and under them they made their camp. Two hours or so before the middle of the night. They lit a fire in a hollow, down among the roots of a spreading hawthorn, tall as a tree, written with age, but hale in every limb. Buds were swelling at each twig's tip.

Guards were set, two at a watch. The rest, after they had supped, wrapped themselves in a cloak and blanket and slept. The hobbits lay in a corner by themselves upon a pile of old bracken. Merry was sleepy, but Pippin was restless. The bracken cracked and rustled, as he twisted and turned in attempt to find a comfortable spot to sleep. Sitting up, he looked around, and his eyes came to rest upon Thennil, who sat before the fire, resting her head on her hand as she gazed into it's flame. He could hear her humming to herself softly, the fingers of her other hand moving in a strumming like movement.

Rising from his bed, he crept around his friend, and the bodies of their sleeping comrades and up to the fire. He settled himself down next to her on a log, looking into the flames. AS she twitched and turned on the log, he heard her shift beside him.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

"No."

"I would imagine you to be tired after such a long few days,' she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

He grimaced.

"Or perhaps you do not wish to sleep because of the dreams that haunt you?"

"Nay, it is not that. I am just restless,' he said, finally finding a spot that he liked. 'So much has happened, and my head just won't shut off."

She nodded imperceptibly.

He turned to look up at her, opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. He sighed.

"What is it, little one?" she asked, giving him her full attention, weary as she was.

"Well-I-do you- he paused. 'Would you sing me a song? Like you would do when we first started out?"

She smiled, "I would be honored."

"Waiting for the rain to fall,

Sun hiding behind the clouds,

Oh my,

Rain falling in this place,

Waiting for the sun to come,

Oh my,

The stars shining in the night,

Hope coming down to us,

When did we lose it?

Why do we let it slip through our fingers?

Oh my,

Why do we wait for the sun to rise?

When we know that it is a hope within that shines brightest?

Why do we let the rain fall,

When we could dance in the puddles?

Oh my,

There is light in everything,

Hope for a brighter day,

We just have to believe,

Believe that everything is going to be alright,

Ohhh,

Reach down deep inside

And stand together, together as one.

No darkness shall prevail,

or evil take life,

We stand together,

United as one."

Silence reigned over the night as her words flew on the feet of the wind, carrying over the hills like a river flowing. Pippin was silent next to her, leaning on her shoulder as he watched the flames flicker back and forth, teasing.

"That was beautiful, did you write it?" he asked.

"No, my mother did,' she said, smiling sadly in memory.

"She was very talented, I wish I could have heard it with a fiddle or flute,' he sighed, tapping his leg.

"She was extremely talented,' remembered Thennil, 'She would fill our home with music day in and day out. She was always teaching my siblings and I different instruments, hoping that one of us had her talent for music."

"And did one of you?"

"Well, we each had a portion of her talent, Elladan can play the fiddle and viola exceptionally, but don't ask him to sing, he's awful,' she laughed. 'Elrohir can play the pinafore, and has a pretty good voice, quite deep actually. Naneth would sit and listen to him play for hours, joining in to play duets now and again when he wanted to learn something new. Now, Arwen, Arwen has more of Naneth's talent than all of us, and can play quite a few instruments beautifully. She's preformed for some of the ambassadors that have come to Imladris over the years. She's quite spectacular."

"And what about you?" he asked.

"Well, Ada has always said that I sound the most like her when I sing, but the only instrument that I can play passably is the lute. Everything else confuses me to no end, even other stringed instruments."

"You voice is more beautiful than any instrument known to Men or Elves,' spoke up a new voice. Turning quickly, Thennil blushed to see that Aragorn had snuck up on her, which had been happening more and more often. He had changed, his ranger habits still evident in his movements, but he stood straighter, taller, with more authority than he had before. He looked more like a king.

"I'm not so sure,' she mumbled.

"I think you were angelic,' Pippin stated, squeezing her hand before slipping away to his bed, yawning.

"Thank you."


	54. Chapter 51

Thennil sat among the Rohirrim, her back straight, and her hands clasped around a wooden mug filled with mead. Seated all over the room were the survivors of the battle at Helm's Deep. Immediately beside her were Merry and Pippin, who had missed her dearly, and had attached themselves to her hip the moment they were off the horses.

Upon arriving at Edoras they had all been ushered into rooms, the men in one, and Thennil another. Eowyn, the gracious host that she was, had prepared baths for them all, and set out clean clothes that were nearly a perfect fit for each one. Thennil had reviled in the hot water, soaking her dirt encrusted skin before using the soaps and oils on her body. The fire kept the bath hot for much longer than she should have been in it, but it had felt amazing after almost a month of rinsing in a cold stream. She took her time combing through the tangles in her curly hair, scrubbing her scalp with the soaps that Eowyn lent her. She missed the floral scents of her homeland, and the oils that they used on their hair, but was thankful even for the small, less potent mixtures that the Rohirrim offered.

After her bath, she had gone to pull out her spare tunic and trousers, but Eowyn had burst into the room, much like she had in Helm's deep, and pushed a handful of cloth into her hands before slamming the door behind her with a giggle. Unfolding the fabric, she had gasped at the creation. Though it was simple, it was magnificent. She ran her hand over the deep forest green, smoothing out the wrinkles of the gown as she looked it over. It had long, bell like sleeves that draped down much like those she would wear in her father's house. Slipping the underdress on over her small clothes, she layered the petticoats over it, then slid one the gown. She had a feeling that Eowyn had had someone make the gown for her, seeing as the woman was shorter than she was, and promised herself to thank the woman when she saw her.

She had sat on the bed in the room, and flopped back, eyes closed as she curled her fingers into the blankets. Her body was physically exhausted, the adrenaline running through her veins had finally left her. Laying back on the bed, she dozed softly, slipping into a deep sleep. Dreams did not greet her as she ascended into the stary sky, mind becoming blank.

Not long after she had been summoned to the hall with everyone else, and seated before the dais. The halls had been cleaned of the dirt and grime that had accumulated in the reign of Saruman, and the wood gleamed in the light of the candles and torches. She had spotted the others in the crowd, Aragorn at the front, Legolas and Gimli near the middle, and Gandalf was no where to be seen. She chuckled silently, assuming that the wizard was figuring out their next move.

From behind them all walked Eowyn, a cup resting betwixt her hands filled with mead. Her steps were slow and purposeful, and on her face was a look of joy. Walking up the steps, she knelt before Theoden, offering up the chalice. The king took the cup from her hand, nodding to her as she rose and walked off to one side. On his right stood Eomer, dressed in clean clothes, and looking better than he had in a long time. One every table rested a feast fit for a king, and the barrels of mead and wine rested on end, waiting for men to devour them. Raising his chalice, the king waited for them all to rise, then spoke.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country.' he paused, looking around at the remaining men. 'Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" shouted the hall in one voice.

With that word, servants ran forward, meat was served, and the celebrations began. Thennil entertained herself watching the hobbits stuff themselves with rolls and meat like there was no tomorrow. They laughed and joked, pushing this food for that towards her to try as they talked merrily. Pippin filled her plate till it was piled nearly as high as his eyebrows, and she looked down at him in confusion.

"You really think I can put all this away?" she asked, pulling a piece of roast carrot from the stack as she watched it teeter precariously.

He shook his head, 'Nay, but if you can't, I can."

She laughed at his sneakiness, and dug in.

 **The** night progressed slowly for Thennil, as she wandered through the crowds, watching. The men slowly began to loosen up, each cup of mead making them less and less stiff-necked and serious. The women of their families soon joined them, and laughter filled the halls as they merrily spoke to one another. She smiled at the joviality of the people, their smiles large and their laughter loud and genuine. Slipping between the pillars she watched Legolas and Gimli approach the table, both to get a drink when Eomer stepped up to the barrel.

"No pauses, no spills,' he said, handing the friends each a pint.

"And no regurgitation!" laughed the dwarf, taking the drink eagerly.

Thennil stepped up, and poured herself another put of the honeyed mead, sipping from it as she watched.

"So,' the elf said looking around, lifting a brow. 'It's a drinking game?"

"Aye!' cried the men around them, leaning on one another as they betted on who would win.

Joining their circle, Thennil handed two gold pieces to the keeper of the bets, 'Two gold pieces on the elf."

The men raised their eyebrows, "Are you sure about that, My lady? The dwarf is sure to leave your friend in the dust!"

She smirked, 'Trust me."

Gimli turned to Legolas, lifting his pint, 'Last one standing wins! Heh heh heh!"

The dwarf tipped back his head, guzzling down his drink in one go. Thennil gagged, remembering the many contests that would take place back at the mountain between the dwarves, drinking mugs upon mugs of ale into the night, their bodies littering the hall come sunrise. Then their women would come with buckets of ice cold water and douse them all. She had had to muffle her laughter, her sides aching at the amount of language and shouts that came out of such a small people.

Legolas leaned forward, sniffing his ale, before slowly downing it. Meanwhile Gimli had downed three more glasses and was starting on his fifth. It was not long before the dwarf was so imbibed with wine and ale that he began spouting randomly, and causing those around him to move further away, some holding their noses. She had stationed herself behind the barrel, leaning up against it as she watched the two down cup after cup.

Taking another mug, Gimli laughed, 'Here, here! It's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women!"

Legolas paused after finishing his chalice, looking down at his fingers dramatically, "I feel something."

Eomer raised an eyebrow.

"A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me."

"Heh, heh, heh. He can't hold his liquor,' chortled the dwarf. Then, as she watched, his eyes slowly began to cross, and the hand that was held up in the air stiffened. Then he was slumped out on the floor, snoring away.

Legolas turned back to Eomer, 'Game over." and walked away.

Thennil followed after him, bumping his shoulder as she looked up quizzically. "Slight tingle in my fingers? Seriously?"

He shrugged.

 **Later** after those who had drunk their wine slowly had gotten those who were to drunk to be around home, the men began to pull the tables away from the middle of the room. A fiddle and drum were found and a tune struck up as the men dragged their ladies into the circle. Soon the music was swirling around them as they bounced and dipped, and even flipped their partners. There were line dances, square dances where the riders kept their partners close, and circle dances. Thennil tapped her foot, remembering her time among the hobbits and the dwarves and their dances, but couldn't find anything that could compare to these fast paced, jolly dances. She laughed, bouncing in time to the beat, and clapping her hands.

A tap on her shoulder had her twisting around, startled. There Eomer stood, hand out held and a smile on his face. "Join me?"

She chuckled, 'It would be my pleasure."

He took her hand, and led her onto the cleared out floor along with the other couples. The fiddles started up, and the couples began to move. They passed each other from one arm to the other, a hop to their step, then lady ducked under the arm of their companion, they continued this way for almost a full circle, twisting and turning. Thennil had watched many of the dances, and began to pick out steps that had been used before. As the music sped up, the men all grabbed their partner around her waist and swung her around in a large sweep. As they swung around, the men would lift up their foot and slap it every once in a while before grabbing their partners waist again. A few of the riders even swung their partners up into the air, making the women laugh musically. Eomer twirled her around, pulling her close before throwing her out again in sync with the other dancers. Faster and faster the fiddle played, and the men began twirling and grabbing their partners by the waist faster than the watchers could see. They bounced and skipped and swung in a blur of greens, browns, and golds. By the end of the dance all parties were breathless, gasping for air as they let other, more rested, dancers take the floor.

She stood with Eomer, breathing hard as they watched the other dancers fly past. From out of the corner of her eye she saw Aragorn approach. She had gotten a glimpse of him while she had been swirling around the room on Eomer's arm. He had had a curious look on his face as she saw her on the arm of another man. The musicians looked over at Aragorn, and one asked him something, motioning to the dance floor. The ranger smirked, stealing a glance over at her from under his lashes. She leaned over Eomer's arm, looking subtly at her friend.

Aragorn spent a few more minutes talking with the fiddler before he turned away and a new song began to be played. Those who had been dancing stopped, moving off to the floor. Aragorn stepped up into one corner. There was a bounce to it, and a beat that she had memorized by heart. He stomped his foot three times, bent his knee and slapped it back and forth three times, his eyes on her. The drums began to tap out their beat and the fiddler drew his bow across the strings, adding his melody to the beat. He moved a few steps forward, and leapt from side to side, swinging his arms up, then forward as he feet stomped in a circle. Then he squatted down onto his heels, bouncing up and leaping off the floor before turing in the air. When he landed, he held his hand out in her direction, beckoning her.

"Really?" she asked, cocking her head as she looked at him. He nodded, twitching his fingers. Rolling her eyes she released Eomer's arm and stepped into the square.

She curtsied to him, going nearly to the floor, stretching her leg out before her. With an elegant twist of her body she was standing, facing away from him. Taking her skirts in her hand she lifted them, showing her ankles, and began to do a jig, feet moving rapidly from the front of her leg to the back, then jumping in the air. After landing, she lifted her skirts so they fanned out, and turned to look at him. She circled, him, not looking at him for longer than a second. She hopped, twirled, and dipped around him before coming to stop in front of him, facing the crowd.

He stomped twice, tapped her on the shoulder, then spun her in to his arms. He bounced them, and she lifted her feet off the ground as he spun them in a circle, clasping her waist with his hands and setting her on the ground as light as a feather. Taking their hands, they placed the palm flat against the other's and walked in a circle, stopping twice to squat to the floor, her dress fanning out when he drew her up, twirling her with his hand. She laughed as the music sped up and they began to swing around the square, him grabbing her waist and lifting her up at the end. The drums pounded in their ears as she dipped her low, their noses almost touching.

The crowd applauded, and others began to join in, doing their own versions of the steps, bouncing and stomping enough to be heard throughout all of Edoras.

 **Thennil** had followed Aragorn away from the dancing, parting to look over to the tables again for the hobbits. She found them sitting at a table, watching the Rohirrim sing. She watched as the men sang back and forth, reminding her of the contest that the hobbits would have back in the shire, their songs getting rowdier and rowdier. Pippin and Merry sat at the table, tankards of ale in their hands as they listened to the singers, goading them. The men finally turned to the halflings, arms crossed and cups raised.

"If we're so bad, sing us one of your songs,' one of them prodded.

Merry and Pippin smirked, and hopped up onto the table. They linked arms, full flagons in their hands as they began to sing.

"You can search far and wide

You can drink the whole town dry

But you'll never find a beer so brown

But you'll never find a beer so brown

But you'll never find a beer so brown

As the one we drink in our home town

As the one we drink in our home town

You can drink your fancy ales

You can drink em by the flagon

But the only brew for the brave and true..."

Pippin looked over at them, pausing when he caught sight of her and Gandalf.

"Pippin!" cried Merr, raising his flagon, the ale sloshing over the side. Pippin shook his head and began to sing again.

"But the only brew for the brave and true...

Comes form the green dragon."

The men laughed loudly, hitting their mugs together and drinking up. From around one of the pillars came Aragorn, a concerned look on his face as he watched the hobbit begin another song. She could feel the joy seep from the evening when she looked into his eyes now. Now they were not merry, but carried a heavy weight. Gandalf clapped in hands in appreciation to the song, smiling.

"No news of Frodo?" he asked in monotone.

"No word...nothing,' said Gandalf.

"We have time."

Gandalf turned to the man.

"Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor,' stated the ranger.

Gandalf searched the man's face, seeking reassurance. "Do we know that?"

"What does your heart tell you, mellonin?" she asked gently, placing a hand on the wizards shoulder.

He sighed, a small smile grew on his wrinkled face. "That Frodo is alive.' then to himself, 'Yes-yes, he is alive."

 **It** was late that night that she guided the hobbits to their rooms, opening a window to let in a slight breeze, spring blowing in with it's sweet fragrance. She bedded them down, laying a blanket over each one before going behind a screen to change out of her gown while they began to snore away. She slipped on her sleeping tunic, which was almost like a dress, and pulled on the trousers, tying the chords loosened her hair from it's ties, brushing it out with her fingers so that it could fall free. She shook her head, enjoying the feeling of freedom that having her hair undone gave her with a content smile.

Walking out from behind the screen, she walked to the window, leaning against the sill and looking out into the night. She frowned at the dark clouds moving in the sky as she looked over the sleeping city. The mountains loomed above them, like the shadows of foes to come. She could feel the darkness creeping up from the south, and looked out towards Gondor, and further, to Mordor. Climbing up on the sill she balanced there, drawing her knees up to her chest as she looked out over the plains, her tired body letting sleep claim her.

Later, or rather early the next morning, Aragorn walked through the room checking on each one. In one corner on a pallet slept Gimli, his snores rumbling loudly throughout the room, like rocks grinding together. The hobbits twisted and turned beneath their blankets, their curly hair becoming tussled and messy. He chuckled the the innocent looks on their faces as they slept, like young children, but how wrong they were. He had seen the pranks that they had pulled while in Imladris, and hoped to never be on the receiving end of their mischief. He ruffled Pippins hair before feeling the chilly breeze that blew in through the open window. Turning, he saw that it was propped open. He shuffled forward, trying to avoid the sprawled limbs of the hobbits. As he came to the window, he smiled, shaking his head at the form balanced on it's sill. He slipped forward, edging his hand under her shoulders and knees, lifting her into his arms. He carried her precariously across the room, laying her out on his pallet and drawing up his cloak over her.

He looked down at her, brushing a stray piece of hair away from her face as she shifted, curling her fingers into his cloak. One of her hands hung limply over the side of the pallet, and her hair was splayed out around her like a red cape. Her upturned nose twitched, and she huffed, twisting in her sleep as she tried to find a comfortable spot. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting his libs trail over her skin for a few moments before pulling away.

"Pippin!" the soft, yet worried cry broke through her sleep, and the fog that she had rested in flew from her mind. Leaping up, she looked about her worriedly, her eyes scanning the room as she searched for the source of the cry.

"Help! Thennil! Gandalf!" came Merry's cry as her eyes landed on the writhing form of the hobbit. Jumping forward she snatched at the ball, and the hobbit let out a strangled cry, falling to the ground. There was shouting and movement, but she did not hear it. Time around her seemed to freeze as she was dropped into an immense darkness. Around her battlements rose, dark and cracked. Far away there were tiny stars that flickered in what she assumed to be the sky, but her mind was confused. Then the stars went out, and her heart lurched in panic, feeling their deaths as great winged creatures flew over them, their wings like bats wheeling through the darkened sky. Then flames surrounded her, licking at her clothes, devouring her. A voice spoke in her head, low, and slick, like that of a snake.

"So, I see that you have joined the halfling, child of Vanya,' it laughed in her mind.

She straightened, trying to pull away from the being as it took form. He was beautiful, like an elf, but twisted like an orc. From half it's head came flaming hair, brighter than fire, while the other half was dark black, like coal, and his ears looked like they had once been pointed. He stood taller than her, thin, yet powerful. She could feel the magic radiated out from him, dark and foul. Her jaw dropped as she gazed upon him, horrified.

"You are Sauron."

"Yes, child,' it, or rather Sauron laughed evilly. 'Tell me,' he stated gently, coaxingly, 'where is the hobbit, he has something in his possession that is dear to me."

She bristled, knowing that he spoke of the ring, 'I will not, Traitorous one."

His laughter ceased, and his presence grew. "Traitorous? How are you any different than I?' he chuckled darkly.

She froze, and without him having spoken, knew that he knew that she was fading. How could he have not known? He had been a Maia, known for his great wisdom before he turned evil. She frowned.

"I am no traitor if I keep secrets that will harm those I love."

"No traitor? Then what are you? A warrior? Hurmph, barely, you are nothing but a child swinging around a sword. A princess? Have you seen yourself?" he taunted.

"I am loyal, honest, caring!" she cried desperately.

"But unlovable. Ugly. Scarred. How you're friends even look at you is beyond me."

She felt herself begin to cave, all her self-doubts rushing back. Memories flowed through her mind like a river, all the negative comments replaying over and over in her head. The fire burned hotter around her, scorching her skin, turning it black as the pain in her mind grew.

Stomping her foot, she shook her head, grabbing it with her hands, and screamed in agony, feeling him page through her mind, pulling her out, then pushing her back in. Like taffy being pulled nearly to the point of snapping, stretching when it shouldn't have been stretched. "Stop it! Stop messing with my mind!"

"Tell me where he is!" he screamed, the darkness pressing in on her, overpowering her body as she collapsed to the ground. He lash out at her, darkness swirling around her, her fea shuddering within her. It was like being stabbed with thousands of sharp knives.

"Never! You will not break me!"

She felt herself being pulled away, but the voice spoke in her mind as her eyes were clouded with darkness. "Then you're fate is set in stone,' Images of a battlefield flashed across her vision, the reek of the dead heavy around her. Blood pooling at her feet, thousands of dead eyes staring up at her from empty bodies. Her body lying at the edge of a broken wall, armor rent and broken. A white tower was burning, and the flag that had been flying ripped from the pole, floating down to meet the blackened earth. 'Even you're f-

She jolted,opened her eyes wide, staring up into those of Aragorn, filled with fear. She shook, her hands trembling in Aragorn's hold as he cradled her in his lap. She could hear Gandalf talking, and the shaky voice of Pippin answering. Aragorn looked over her worriedly, running his hand up and down her arm, opening her clenched hands with his own as she tensed. Slowly she loosened her grasp, letting him splay his fingers over her own. Her body aches, shuddering in Aragon's arms as she feels her fea deteriorating more. She clutched his tunic in her hands, needing something solid to remind her that she was here, in Edoras, not in that dark world that was the Palantir.

"You have taken no harm,' Gandalf's voice stated from beyond her vision, and his deep voice brought the memories of Sauron back to the front of her mind.

Then Gandalf was kneeling over her, touching her head gently, like a grandfather. Turning, she stared up into his eyes, fear flooding her irises. Aragorn laid her back against his chest, leaning back so she was reclining as the wizard looked over her. "I assume you saw something like Pippin?"

She nodded, shutting her eyes as the images leapt into her mind. "It was dark, and their were flames, lots of them, everywhere."

She shuddered, breath coming in small gasps, reliving the Dark Lord's words. "He was awful, yet beautiful at the same time. He-he-

"Look at me,' Gandalf demanded gently, rubbing soothing circles on her arm. She stared into his eyes, letting him see everything, and was dismayed when she saw a great sadness flicker over his face.

She knew then that he had seen what the Dark Lord had spoken of. Her death.

 **Aragorn** sat with her, holding her close long after all the other's left. She lay in his arms, drawing comfort from his closeness. He stroked her hair, running his fingers through it gently as they listened to the birds begin to sing through the window, the sun peaking over the mountains. He didn't ask her what she saw, didn't ask her if she wasn't alright, didn't ask her if he could get her anything. He held her, which was the only thing she really needed.

"It was awful,' she whispered against his chest. 'So dark."

He 'hmmhmm'd', but didn't ask.

"The stars, he wiped the stars from the skies. Stole the light from the earth,' she looked up at him, trying to stem the tears that welled up in her eyes. "I've never seen anything like it."

He hushed her, holding her tighter.

Taking a ragged breath, she slowly sat up, the collar of her shirt slipping over one shoulder. Looking up into his eyes, she smiled sorrowfully. "I can't believe you put up with me."

He frowned. "Put up with you? I love you."

She shook her head. "I'm ugly.' her scars began to seep through the facade that she had slipped into place like a second skin without knowing. The deep, crack-like lines grew from her eye as the pupil misted over. "Scarred."

He glared down at her. "You are wrong."

She twisted away from his grasp, standing. She hugged herself, unable to look at him. "How am I wrong? Look at ME!"

She whirled around, eyes blazing in irritation. He smiled up at her, looking her over from head to toe. Standing, he stepped towards her, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingers.

"You are breath-taking.' he let his index finger trace the scar around her eye. "I see strength here,' he kissed her scar, taking her hand and running over her callused fingers-'And hands that are quick to help'-up her arms he kissed her through the fabric-'Muscles hardened by labor of love.' He leaned in close, "A mind determined to protect those it holds dear,' he rubbed her ear between his thumb and forefinger. "And a heart beating in harmony with faith." He rubbed his hand along her collar bone, tickling the edge of the wide scar with his rough fingers.

Stepping back, he took her chin in his hand, staring intently into her eyes. "If that isn't the description of beauty, then I don't know what is."

She stood, now shaking for an entirely different reason. "Thank you."

He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Reaching up he slipped his hand behind her head, drawing her face closer to his and tangling his fingers in her soft hair. She tilted forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as he inhaled. His lips were gently, yet rough, dry from being out in the wind and weather. She pressed closer to him, impossibly so, as if they would meld into on being. In the silence around them the only thing that could be heard was the rustling of the curtains as the breeze blew in through the window while the light of the morning sun filtered through it, casting the couple in an unearthly glow, turning Thennil's red hair into gold and Aragorn's skin into a rich tan. His smelled like worn leather and the earth, fresh and clean, like a breeze sweeping in through wet pines. His nose brushed against her cheek, then over her own delicate nose. It was like nothing she had ever experienced, and it was beautiful.

They drew apart, breathing softly. Her eyes remained closed, the feelings that she had experienced rolling over her like the ocean, gently and sweet. She slowly opened her eyes, her arms still around his neck as she smiled up at him, but in the next instant buried her face in his chest, covering her face.

He laughed, pulling her away from him as a blush crept up her neck, all the way to the tips of her pointed ears.

"That was your first kiss?"

She blushed harder, if that was possible, covering her eyes with her hands and mumbling through them. "Was it awful?"

He burst out laughing, and she peeked out from behind her hands, frowning.

"You're asking me if it was awful?"

"What? You've never kissed anyone else?" she shot back.

"Only one, and it happened to be on an outing to one of the human towns when I was seventeen,' he chuckled, and she glared at him.

"Did Elladan and Elrohir take you when I was out scouting?" she asked, glaring out the window as she thought of her two mischievous brothers.

"Maybe, maybe not."

She huffed, turning away from them. Then a memory popped into her head, and she whirled around to look at him. "That was why Elrohir had a black eye?!"

Aragorn's face went blank, 'No..."

"It was, wasn't it?' she said throwing her hands up in the air. 'I knew Ada was mad at him for something, I just didn't realize it was something like that."

Aragorn smiled unsteadily, moving away from her towards the door as she ranted on.

He was nearly out when she turned towards him, 'I told- What are you doing?"

He shrugged, and bolted out the door, hearing her angry shouts behind him as she rushed into the hallway, only to realize that she was still dressed in her sleeping tunic. His laughter rang through the house.

 **Sorry for being a day late! I was scrambling to catch up on homework. My Professor put the wrong book on the bookstore for one of my classes, and then told us that it was the wrong one on the first day of class, so yeah...**

 **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you guys next week!**

 **Robin**


	55. Chapter 52

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes; a fool, but an honest fool he remains. Wiser ones might have done worse in such a pass.' Gandalf turnd to the others. 'He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring."

Gimli sighed with relief, as did the others. Thennil stood next to the hobbits, a comforting hand on Pippin's shoulder as Gandalf continued to talk. She could feel the hobbits discomfort as she shifted beneath the harsh gaze of the wizard. She pitied the halfling, his curiosity and the pull of Sauron through the palatir to strong for his will.

"If he had been questioned again, then and there, he would have almost certainly told all, to the ruin of Middle Earth.' The wizard turned to Theoden, stroking his long white beard. 'We've been strangely fortunate. What Pippin saw in the Palantir was a glimpse of our enemy's plan."

The others all watched Gandalf as he walked back and forth. "Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing...' he turned to Aragorn and glanced over at Thennil, voice full of warning. 'The heir of Elendeil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed, and the elves have started to return to their homes. There is courage still-strength enough left to challenge him."

Theoden listened intently, saying nothing as he pondered these things. His eyes flickered to each of those standing around the community fire in the center of his hall, looking for each of their reactions to the wizards words.

"Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner again. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees the return of the King."

He then turned to Aragorn, and produced from his robes the palantir. "Will you, Aragorn, take the Orthanc-stone and guard it? It is a dangerous charge."

Thennil watched as Aragorn approached the wizard. "Dangerous indeed, but not to all. There is one who may claim it by right. For this is assuredly the planter of Orthanc from the treasury of Elendil, set here by the Kings of Gondor. Now my hour draws near. I will take it."

Now, the palatir came from beyond the Westernesse, from Eldamar. The Noldor made them. Feanor himself had been rumored to have wrought them, in days so long ago that the time could not be measured in years. The men of old used them to see far off, and to converse in thought with one another. It was in that way that they long guarded and united the realm of Gondor. They set up Stones at Minas Anor, and Minas Ithil, and at Orthanc in the ring of Isengard. The chief and master of these stones was under the Dome of Stars at Osigilath before its ruin. The three others were far away in the North. But through time they disappeared, or were lost. One Gandalf was sure had been taken from Minas Ithil, whose name had been changed to Minas Morgul, by Sauron when he overthrew the city centuries past. Somehow Saruman had been using the Stone to look farther and farther out, flickering images appearing in his mind, only to be caught by Sauron, and his mind and ways twisted.

It was then, in great surprise to those about them, mostly to Theoden, the hobbits and her two other companions, that Gandalf bowed before Aragorn, lifting the covered Stone, and presented it.

"Receive it, lord,' he said: 'in earnest of other things that shall be given back. But if I may counsel you in the use of your own, do not us it-yet! Be wary!"

"When have I been hasty or unwary, who have waited preparing for so many long years?" said Aragorn, trying not to cringe at the rebuking look that Thennil sent him from across the room.

Gandalf turned back to Theoden, "If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!"

Theoden held the wizards gaze, but his neck was stiff. "Tell me. Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?"

Thennil glared at the king, angered that he would discard the friendships that he had built so suddenly.

"What do we owe Gondor?' continued the king, anger evident in his voice.

"I will go,' she heard Aragorn whisper, low and urgent.

"No!" cried Gandalf urgently.

"Then I shall go,' Thennil said, stepping forward. She was already dressed for travel, sword at her belt, quiver at her back.

"No,' the wizard said, 'no."

"And why not?" she asked, hand straying to her hip. 'I know people there, many people who would hopefully listen to me! I can go!"

"They must be warned!"

"They will be.' the wizard crept up to the two of them, his eye flicking betwixt them. 'You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river, loo to the black ships.' He turned to the others, voice growing louder so the others could hear. 'Understand this, things are now in motion that cannot be undone."

Thennil glared at the wizard, noticing him glancing over to Pippin, 'Gandalf..."

"I ride for Minas Tirith! And I won't be going alone!"

 **Thennil** managed to let Gandalf let her have a few minutes with Pippin, even sequestering him away from Merry for a short time. She hurried him into their room, shutting the door and pausing. Taking a deep breath, she turned to him, a sad smile on her face. He stood by the window, looking out on the city. His face was forlorn, miserable. He leaned against the sill, barely able to look over it, like a small child. Walking over to him, she laid her hand on one shoulder, comforting.

He stood there, peering out, a deep sorrow welling up within him.

"Why did you look?' she asked gently.

He slammed his fist down onto the sill, making the shutters quiver, growling. "I don't know. I can't help it!"

She combed her fingers through his hair gently. She could feel the fear coming off him, could smell it like a hound smells the fox.

"I don't know why I'm always so curious,' he grumbled. 'I just see something, and have to touch it, most of the time it gets me in trouble. You would think that I would have learned by now."

He sighed, looking up at her with his big eyes.

"Don't dwell on what you did wrong, Pippin, instead focus on what to do next. Spend your energy finding the answer."

He shook his head, 'Will I be able to fix it though?"

"Maybe not now, at this moment, but you can start where you are now and try to change the ending."

He nodded, and began to walk to the door, hearing Gandalf shouting in the hall. He had put his hand on the handle, and was about to turn it when he whipped around and rushed back across the room, flinging his short arms around her and hugging her tightly. The hobbit didn't sob, but she wash sure that he had shed a few tears onto her tunic.

"Thank you so much, Thennil,' came his muffled voice as he pressed his face into her stomach.

She leaned down and smiled at him as he rubbed his red face. "You're welcome, my dear little friend. May the spirits of the Valar be with you."

He nodded, and bolted out of the room as Gandalf's voice grew louder in frustration.

 **Walking** down the stairs of Edoras, she watched as Gandalf hurried into the stable, Pippin and Merry following along behind. Her heart was in agony as she watched the duo burst forth from the stables on Shadowfax, thundering out of the capital. Like a beacon of light, they galloped over the plain. Merry bolted from the stables, rushing up into one of the watchtowers, Aragorn not far behind him. From her perch atop the hill, she was able to see Shadowfax running away with the wind chasing his heels, till they were but a speck on the horizon, then gone.

And so the days of waiting began.

 **Far away** over the many mountains and through many hills and valleys rode another group of people. This group rode much slower, and there was many songs that they sung, and music that they played. Tall they were, and fair of face, for these were the elven folk, the people of Imladris, Lothlorien, and Mirkwood. They travelled to the sea, and across it to Aman. Around them rose tall pines, the scent of their needles permitting the air with each hoof that stepped upon them.

The elves were dressed in many forms of clothing, some wearing traveling gear while other's wore normal day clothes like they did within their many cities and settlements. Many of their spirits were heavy, feeling the effects of slowly fading away. It was to Arwen's amazement that they met many elves returning from the harbors, singing songs of love for their land, their spirits renewed. It was unlike anything that she had ever seen before. Never before had the elves returned, the groups always sailed across the sea, far into the mists of the west. They brought stories of dreams, visions, and renewal from the Valar that were astonishing to all that heard them. And so the groups had passed them by, returning to the homes they once inhabited with renewed vigor and hope.

And yet, those who still travelled with her walked on towards the Havens, unchanged. She had seen a few of them talking with those who stayed with them when they camped every night, asking about the changes, but most assumed that they were to old, or that the sea's call was too strong. The further they travelled from her father's house the more she doubted her decision. Her father had ordered that she be taken by the safest road to a ship that lay in anchor in the Grey Havens. There it waited to take her across the sea, much like her mother's had; the last journey of Arwen Undomiel.

She guided her horse along, nudging him with her knee now and again to keep him walking quick enough so that he wouldn't slow those walking around them down. Her eyes were draw to the trees, and the soft breeze the blew through their branches, rattling the needles. The ferns bobbed up and down to their own rhythm, and the birds twittered as they flew. Then across the path ran a small child who didn't look to be older than six or seven. She paused, intrigued and watched as he stumbled and fell, only to rise again, the trees began to thin and instead he was skipping through a pillared corridor. One had hair dark like rich earth, and the other's glowed like the sun. He paused, looking back quickly and giggling mischievously. The architecture was great; white as snow with arches and pillars of amazing proportions. At the edge of the corridor a silhouette appeared, dark against the light that streamed through the open balcony. Turning, the boy ran to the figure. The man, for that is what she assumed him to be, opened his arms to the boy, swinging the laughing child into the air with a shout. As the man turned with the boy, she gasped.

It was Aragorn. Not as she was used to seeing him, dressed in his ranger's garments, or even elven gear like he wore in her father's house, but in the finery of men. There were a few silver hairs in his beard and one or two light streaks of grey in his hair, but he looked only a little older than when she had last seen him. He kissed the child in his arms, and she inhaled sharply, tears coming to her eyes as she got a better look at the boy's face. He had his father's strong chin, and dark wavy hair, gleaming like the sun upon his breast rested the morning star. His eyes and cheekbones were that of one she held dear to her heart, yet had pulled away from as the years had passed after their mother's parting. Thennil.

From the shadows of another corridor came her sister, dressed in silver, her wild red hair somewhat tamed into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. At her skirts were two more children, both with bright hair and their father's stormy blue eyes. Their ears were pointed but slightly and they reminded her of her elder brothers, such was the mischievous look in their eyes. Thennil guided them onto the balcony with one hand, in her other arm rested a bundle. Setting the boy down, Aragorn hurried over to Thennil, kissing her on the lips before turning to the infant in her arms, brushing a rough finger over the child's tuft of curls. The group looked up at her, suddenly becoming forlorn, a sadness etched on their faces.

Then they were gone, and she was in a room opening out into a great forest. At one end a tall figure stood, his shoulders strong and broad for an Elf. His hair was braided back in warriors braids, and on his back was a bow. He turned, and she saw that in his arms he held a delicate child. The babe's face was pale as snow, it's hair as dark as night, and when she opened her eyes, they were a pale sky blue. Reaching up the girl snagged one of the braids and tugged at it, eliciting a chuckle from her holder.

She closed her eyes at the scene, her heart aching as the image of the babe imprinted into her mind. Tears slipped down her face, like small diamonds of pure sorrow. Opening them, she expected to see the Elf, but there was no one there. Her father's words echoed in her mind: "There is nothing for you here, only death."

"Lady Arwen?' a voice called to her, and she turned to see Figwit standing before her horse. 'We cannot delay."

Kicking her horse in the side, she wheeled around, galloping in the opposite direction.

"My Lady!?" cried Figwit, panicked.

 **Arwen** galloped through the gates, entering the courtyard that housed the stables. Dismounting, she quickly handed the reigns off to one of the elves, of which she was sure had left for the West. She hurried through the halls, pulling off her hood as she went. Her steps were full of purpose, determination. As she ran down the steps into her mother's garden and beyond, her anger, and hope grew. Flying along the paths, she came to her father's balcony. Untying her cloak, she let it flutter to the ground as she sped gracefully up the steps.

"Tell me what you have seen!" she demanded, climbing up more of the stairs.

"Arwen,' her father murmured, stunned to see her.

"You have the gift of foresight- what did you see?" she pleaded, standing before him.

His face hardened, and he gritted his teeth. "I looked int your future and I saw death."

"And what of Thennil? What did you see in her future?" she asked, pleading.

"Death! So much death!' he thundered, looking past her to where a lute lay against the wall of the inner room. 'I saw her body lying among the dead on a battlefield, the life in her eyes drained out of her, and her smile twisted in pain before her final moment."

"But there is also life." she stated, firm in her belief.

He began to turn away, his eyes falling on his wife's garden. She followed him as he walked further onto his balcony.

"You saw that there was a child...' she stated, hair swishing around her, 'and not just my own daughter. Thennil's son!"

Her father stared into space for a few moments, the fight slowly leaving him, and she saw a man so full of exhaustion and sorrow which she had never seen before. His shoulders sagged, and one of his arms hung limp at his side while the other grasped onto the table with little strength. He closed his eyes, coming to lean on the railing, looking down at the ground below them.

"That future is almost gone,' he whispered quietly, sadness seeping into his voice.

"But is not lost...' she argued.

He slumped into his chair, not focused on anything. "Nothing is certain."

"Somethings are certain, but when things are not, anything is possible. If I leave now, abandon what she has started and the love that I have not yet known, but long for, I will regret it forever.' she stated, taking her father's face in her hands. She looked deep into his eyes, baring her heart before him through their fea. 'Ada, it is time."

 **She** sat before one of the grates in the lower town of Edoras. Beside her was Gimli, smoking his pipe, using up the last of the long bottom leaf that he had gotten from the barrel's in Isengard. He puffed slowly, staring out into the night as the watched the plains together. A needle sat in her hand, it's string trailing down to the garment in her other palm. She had pilfered all the torn and rent clothing from among their packs, piling it beside her waiting to be mended. In and out the needle flew, sewing up the long tears in the fabric. She chuckled as she came across yet another hole in Gimli's trousers, there were many. He huffed at her, rolling his eyes as she blew a large smoke ring into the air to join the fire's smoke.

Around them the people still moved about, lamps hanging from the houses here and there to light their way. Children ran and played in the grass around their homes, their laughter finally to be heard after such a long silence. Gimli chuckled at the boys antics, wrestling and fighting like their sires, wooden swords in their belts and round shields in their hands as they yelled and hollered loudly. A few had sticks with sewn horse heads attached to the top and rode them around the road, racing one another.

Many of the girls had gathered close to their fire, chattering to one another. In their arms they held their rag dolls or ponies, while those who were older wove flower chains for one another, placing the crowns upon their heads. A few of the younger ones wandered over to her, petting her hair and combing through it with their short stubby fingers. They giggled and laughed, the older girls joining in as they worked over her hair, twisting it this way and that before braiding it. They tugged at her long locks, brushing through them as they tied it off at the end with a leather strap.

Sitting back, she snatched up one of the littler girls, her straw colored hair curling up around her ears. She turned to the other girls, eyebrow raised. "So what must I give in payment for this lovely hair-do?"

"Sweets!"

"Could we try out your sword?"

"A ride on your horse!"

They all clamored, nearly malling her as they flew up to her, pulling on this shoulder or that sleeve. From her lap came the lasses small, babyish voice. "What 'bout a story?"

The others caught the word, eye growing large as they plopped down wherever they stood. "A story! A story! A story!"

Chuckling, she hushed them with her hand. "A story it is then."

They slowly began to quiet down, leaning forward on their elbows with anticipation. So she began.

"One, a long time ago, in a land far, far away-

"Like in Harad?' asked one of the girls, a proud grin on her face at her knowledge of the world.

"Yes, in Far Harad, actually,' Thennil improvised. 'There lived a in a village a girl named Muni. Now, Muni's father was a retired warrior, renown among his people. He had come home wounded, and sick from the fighting. He was to old to fight, but not to old to teach his daughter how to ride a desert horse and use a scimitar. The girls of her village seldomly learned these skills unless they were chosen by the council, but Muni's father believed that everyone should know how to fight and defend what was their own from the bandits and other tribes.

'One day as she was washing clothes in the river of their oasis, she heard the pounding of-

"What's an oasis?"

Thennil paused, trying to pull up an image from the past in her mind. She had only gone a little ways south of Gondor in her exploration when she was young, and had only ever heard descriptions of what an oasis looked like. "Well, it is in the middle of a very dry place, with a lot of sand, and normally around a water source, like the river in our story. There are trees there, though nothing like you have in Rohan, Gondor, or even Lothlorien. Imagine a lot of green grass and trees in the middle of a sea of very, very small pebbles that reflects the sun."

The children nodded, some laying on their bellies.

"Now, Muni heard the pounding of hooves, and saw the flags of her tribe flying in the breeze, tall and red against the white of the sand. Tossing the washed clothes into her basket, she carried it upon her head into the middle of their village market place where the visitors stopped. There in the center of the square was a list of all the families saying that from each one a man must be sent to join the army that their chief was building.

'Muni knew that her father would not survive another battle, and so that night she stole into his room and took his armor. She disguised herself as a man, wearing her hair in the braided style of her people, a turban on her head. The next day she reported for duty under her families name. Though the warriors thought her a lousy addition to the army, they soon found that she was not as naive as they had thought.

'Later, as the men taken from the village to join the army left, riding their horses, Muni's father stood by the edge of the road looking each of them over in puzzlement. He had gone and reported to his post, but was refused, the warden saying that they had already received a man from his family. Muni spent the next many years carefully nurturing her character, earning badges of honor and bravery for all of her hard work in the army. Along the way she fell in love with one of the generals, and eventually revealed her true self to him."

All the girls sighed, while the boys, who had slowly trickled over to their group gagged.

"Now, though she became renowned among their people, she never received a reward from their chief, only asking to be sent home to her family. The chief of their tribe argued against this, and awarded her a bag of gold and jewels along with quite a few fine horses. When she arrived home, she was told by the villagers that her father had passed on. In her grief, she threw aside her treasures, and took to the dunes with her lover. It is said that to this day she roams the sands, crying and moaning for the time that she lost with her father, yet laughing and celebrating in the love that she found with her husband and children.

'The end."

The children clapped, and hopped up to throw their arms around her. She drew them in, holding them tightly as they squirmed in her arms. She tickled a few of them before ushering them off towards their mother's skirts. Leaning back, she looked into the fire, eyes glazing over.

Then she was standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the sky turn red like blood. Bodies piled up around her, twisted and beaten, and she tried to get away, but only tripped. Images flashed through her mind, portions of her life flickering behind her eyelids. Battles she fought, people she saved, children she had watched grow into adults, time passing her by, until it stopped with a horrible pain in her chest, and her sapphire blue's flew open, her hand grasping at her chest.

She breathed hard, closing her eyes, trying to get rid of the images that seemed to have burnt itself to the backs of her lids. Standing, she hurried off into the dark shadows of the city, abandoning Gimli to his pipe and the fire in the grate. She wandered the roads, her eyes able to see in the pale starlight as she pondered the meaning of her dreams, haunted.

 **Thennil** crouched in the garden's of Edoras, the sun filtering through the lattice work overhead. Her heart beat slowly, sometimes stuttering, sometimes beating strongly. Rays of light shown down onto her knife and whetstone as she sharpened her blades. She had them all laid out before her uniformly in the new grass. Humming softly, she ran the stone over the edge of the blade over and over again until it was sharp enough to cut through the toughest of leathers. It was methodic, and relaxing as they minutes ticked by.

Soft footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up. She was surprised to see Legolas, creeping through the bushes and vines that spanned the garden. Sitting up, she smiled, waving to him as he moved towards her. She stood, but wavered, her knees weakening as she fought to catch her breath, spots dancing before her eyes. The blade slipped from her long fingers and flipped end over end until it stabbed into the ground up to the hilt. She teetered, becoming more lightheaded and dizzy by the second, her surroundings blurring together as she toppled.

It felt like an age as she crumbled, her knees giving out, the weight of her body falling towards the earth, images spinning before her eyes.

"Thennil!" Legolas cried out, catching her just before she hit the ground.

He righted her, sitting her on the bench, and pulling his flask of water from his side, had her drink a few sips. Once the water was down, she leaned forward, head between her hands as she tried to center herself. He rubbed her back, peppering her with question after question. Before her he started to pace back and forth in worry, naming any types of ailments that elves were able to contract from humans, which was practically none.

"Legolas!' she shouted firmly, glaring up at him and silencing him with her hand. 'Enough!"

He knelt before her, taking her hand in his. He shuddered, almost retracting it. "You-you feel-you feel-

"Like I'm dying.' she said, looking down at their joined hands. 'Because I am."

"That's not possible, you'd have to be fading,' he stated, feeling the life-force of her fea being sucked away. 'But you're not, I know what it feels like, I have held the hand of a fading elf before, and this,' he motioned to her hand, 'is different. Like you're being drained away."

She smiled sadly.

He stiffened. "No."

"I was never meant to live this long,' she said, smiling, though it was more of a grimace.

"No."

"I saw it in a vision when I was young, pictures flashing across my eyes, places, things, battles, but it ended with a knife sticking out of my chest,' she said.

"What about Aragorn? Does he know?' he asked, and she looked down at the grass, unable to meet his eyes. 'He doesn't, does he?"

"No,' she said, looking up with a hardened face, 'And you will not tell him."

"So you plan on telling him?' he pushed.

"No, I'm sure that he will realize with time. Or I'll be killed in battle,' she muttered.

He clasped her hand in his, 'Thennil, you cannot do this, it would ruin him."

"How can I tell him that I'm dying?' she asked, "How can I tell him that everything that he hoped for, that we hoped for, is just a dream?"

Tears began to slip down her face. 'Do you realize that if I tell him, that part of the reason he is even doing the things he is doing, is because my father said that he would never be able to marry me unless he was worthy. He sees this as making him worthy."

Legolas brushed a thumb over her cheek, the tears sliding down between his fingers, "Even if you did die, he would still say it was worth it. That it was worth the time that he spent with you."

"I'm not dead yet,' she whispered, leaning into his shoulder, shuddering as another spasm racked through her body. 'I'm a spirit with a beating heart."

A cool breeze began to blow, swirling around them, causing the leaves of last year to be caught up in the wind. Her hair blew wildly about her, as tears streamed down her face. Her eyes drifted up to the sky, clear of any clouds. Her mournful voice carried over the breeze like a sigh.

"There's no time for us,

There's no place for us,

What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?

Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever?

There's no chance for us.

It's all decided for us.

This world has only for one sweet moment set aside for us.

Who wants to live forever? Who dares to live forever?

When love must die?

You've touched my tears with your lips,

You've touched my world with your fingertips,

You've touched my heart with you love,

And we could have lived forever!

We could have lived forever.

Forever was our today.

Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever?

Forever is ours,

Today."

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I've very excited, and sad at the same time to say that I only have a few chapters left to write. I'm hoping to end the book at about 65 actual chapters, which may or may not lead into another book about one of the female characters that I've introduced...**

 **So, keep an eye out! And please review! Reviews are like life for my story.**

 **Also, I'm looking for suggestions for ideas for how to draw Aragorn and Thennil closer, so please comment and let me know what you would like to see.**

 **Love ya all!**

 **Robin**


	56. Chapter 53

**Enjoy my** **darlings!**

Thennil sat on the steps of Edoras, the stones warm in the sun. The breeze blew round about her, teasing her hair and playing with her light, loose sleeves. While her body sat in the rays of sunshine in Rohan, her spirit and mind had travelled over the mountains yet again. Her eyes glazed over, vacant as she was pulled away.

She was in a long hallway of stone, black marble pillars lining the sides. On these pillars there were many strange figures of beasts and leaves; and far above in the shadow the wide faulting gleamed with dull gold. The floor was polished stone, white-gleaming, inset with flowing traceries of many colors. Between each pillar stood the silent company of tall images graven in cold stone. She had never seen the inside of this hall in her two visits to the city, but was reminded of Argonath, and she was filled with awe. Looking down the long line she realized that these were of kings long dead. They were amazingly precise in their design, and could have been living replicas if they had not been carved from the cold stone. At the far end of the hall upon a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble shaped liked a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with gems an images of a great tree in flower.

But that throne was empty. At the foot of the dais, upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone chair, black and unadorned, and on it sat an old man who gazed down at his lap. She wished to withdraw, but it was as if her spirit was not her own, and she was forced to watch him weep over a horn, one she recognized. She could hear nothing, but there, suddenly before her, stood Gandalf and Pippin. The wizard raised his staff and hailed the king, bowing, and spoke to him. The old man looked up.

His carven face with its proud bones and skin like ivory was blank as he spoke to them. His long curved nose sat between two dark deep eyes, his features reminded her more of Aragorn than of Boromir, which she knew to be his son. Then she was pulled away, a blinding light from above bursting through her sense as she blinked. There before her lay a tree, leaning over a pool in which a fountain played, the water the only movement as it splashed. The tree was dead, barren of any color, leaf, or flower, and from it's broken branches drops of water dripped sadly into the clear water below.

Then with a rush, she was thrown back into her own body as a voices spoke around her. Blinking, she smiled in embarrassment up at Eowyn who stood next to her.

"What did you say?' she asked, pushing a strand of her hair behind her pointed ear.

Eowyn chuckled, sitting down beside her on the step, and leaned forward onto her elbows. "I had asked what you were looking at."

"Oh, well,' Thennil began, trying to figure out what to say. 'I was hoping to see the beacon on the mountains lighting."

Eowyn shook her head, 'I don't know if they will. Gondor is a very proud country, and it has been very seldom within the last few centuries that they have called for our aid."

Thennil said nothing, resting her chin on her hand as she looked out on the plains. Eowyn scooted closer, cocking her head to one side and watching her.

"I was listening to the story you told the children two days past,' she began, twisting a strand of her hair.

"Hmmhmm?"

"Do you think that women should be allowed to fight?' asked Eowyn.

Thennil turned to look at the women who had steadily worked her way into her heart, examining her. "Why do you ask?"

Eowyn shrugged, 'Just wonder what your opinion was since you've been in battle before."

She nodded, and sat up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so. "Among my people being a female warrior is difficult. For the most part we were a peaceful people before Morgoth corrupted some of the elves, turning them into Orcs. It was when his evil grew that our people took up arms, both men and women. We fought to defend what was our own, to protect the innocent. But when he was defeated, we returned to our peaceful ways, though our menfolk still practiced the art of war so that they might defend us against the orcs and goblins that still roamed Middle Earth. Our women became more sheltered, turning to crafts like weaving, sewing, the playing and writing of music, scribes, gardeners, or jewelry makers.'

'Slowly the number of female warriors dwindled down to a scant few, and it became our social norm for the men to go out, and for the women to wait."

"So, your men demoted their women to housewives and child-rearers?' Eowyn scoffed.

"Yes and no. It wasn't our men, but our women, who did so. To teach and rear children is one of the most cherished parts of our lives, as it is a short time for us, and so our women devoted themselves to bringing up a learned and wise generation."

"But you're still a warrior, how do you explain that?" Prodded Eowyn.

Thennil ran her hand through her hair, "Each of us, before we come of age, explore different crafts, like the ones I listed earlier, but I never found any of them that interested me. I could sew well enough to mend my own clothes, knew enough languages to become a scribe, and had enough knowledge of plants to be an alright gardener. But nothing stuck out to me, spoke to me.'

'My brother's, though many years younger than myself, had begun to practice in the training fields every day. Each day I would take my sewing, or mending as it was, and sat on a bench watching them as they learned how to hold a blade, to advance, retreat, parry, and the like. Day after day I watched them, and with each one I learned a little more, though I only ever tried them in my room where no one could see, and with a broom from the linen closet," she chuckled, Eowyn joining in as she tried to imagine the beautiful elven lady beside her as a young girl with a broom as a sword in her hand.

"That must have been quite the adventure!"

"Oh yes! But not quite as exciting as when I snuck into the field after everyone had left and borrow a sword that had been left out.' she smiled fondly as the memory came to the forefront of her mind. 'I was imitating one of the positions that Glorfindel had shown my brother's earlier that day, twisting and turning the sword with both hands. I was quite a sight!'

'I nearly dropped the sword when Glorfindel, who had been spying on me the whole time, began to clap.' Eowyn gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide.

"What did he do?"

"I was sure that he would go straight to my father and tell him of my misconduct,' she paused for effect, 'but instead he told me that I could become his secret student."

"What?" gapped Eowyn.

"It get's better. Every day I trained with him, and the years passed. Each day the I would head down to the training field, I made sure to stick to the shadows of the corridors, and to slip through the gardens unseen, hiding from my father."

"How did he find out?"

"He knew all along,' Thennil giggled, remembering how he had caught her jumping through her window in attempt to hide from him a little longer. "Caught me climbing through my window. Then he told me that he was fine with me learning how to fight, if I also learned to heal."

"So that's where you got all that knowledge that you used in Helm's Deep?' Eowyn asked, huffing. 'Elf-magic."

She shrugged, continuing on in her thoughts, 'Though I can see the advantage of she-elves fighting among men, as there is not a lot of difference between physical strength, our emotions do run higher, and we are more susceptible to act on those emotions. For the race of Men, there is a larger difference in physical strength and emotional stability, but that doesn't change the fact that women can't fight.' She turned to look Eowyn head-on. 'But Melee fighting is not place for a maiden, and warfare is especially ugly when women are involved. Even when the Sheildmaiden's did fight among the Rohirrim, there were more casualties. While women have the potential to fight, I think that there is more of a danger for them personally. Without women, where would men be?"

Eowyn's jaw tightened, but she nodded her head. Standing, she curtsied and hurried up the steps and into the hall. Thennil sighed, turning back to the plains and watching the clouds roll by as they day faded, hoping that she hadn't offended her friend with her opinions.

 **Pippin** leaned on the balcony railing, looking up into the vast night sky. He had seen and learned so much in just the few days that he had spent here, and it was overwhelming. His small head was pounding as the information played over and over in his mind. His duties, the friends he had made, the places he had seen and explored, and the quiet hope of the people washed over him like a great wave from the ocean. He sighed.

There's no more stars,' he asked, turning to look at the wizard, 'is it time?"

"Yes,' whispered the wizard, gazing out into the darkness.

"It's so quiet."

"It's the deep breath before the plunge." replied the wizard from behind him.

"I don't want to be in a battle,' stated the hobbit, thinking back to when Thennil had told him in the company's room in Rohan. 'But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse.'

Gandalf moved forward, leaning against the railing.

"Is there any hope, Gandalf-for Frodo and Sam?"

"There was never much hope,' said the wizard, turning to look at the hobbit with a small smile. 'Just a fools hope."

They were quiet, staring out towards the fiery sky over Mordor, which at times would grow brighter as Mount Doom sent up a spout of hot lava, the ash rising into the air.

"Our enemy is almost ready, his full strength gathered. Not only Orcs, but men as well. Legions of Haradrim from the South, Mercenaries from the coast..All will answer Mordor's call." The wizard kept talking, almost as if it was just to himself, and not to the small halfling that stood beside him worrying. 'This will be the end of Gondor as we know it. Here the hammer stroke will fall the hardest.'

"If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defense of this city will be gone."

Pippin looked up into the wizard's face in desperation, seeking any reassurance he could find as his fingers tightened on the railing, the knuckles turning white. "But we have the White Wizard, that's got to count for something. Then there's Thennil, she's pretty powerful."

The hobbit had seen some of her power as they had journeyed together, catching her lighting the fire with a flick of her fingers or healing a cut on his knee from where he had slipped with a bit of golden light. He hadn't asked questions, for once not curious about something that was so foreign to him, but he had always felt safe with her around.

"Gandalf?" he asked nervously.

"Sauron has yet to release his deadliest servant...The one who will lead Mordor's armies in war, the one they say no living man can kill.' The wizard stared out into the night, not seeing the darkness in front of him, but something far worse, far more detrimental. 'The Witch-King of Angmar...You've met him before..."

The hobbit shuddered, remembering the black riders that had followed after them when they had left the Shire.

"He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop."

Pippin blanched at the memory, the sound of Frodo's agonizing scream ringing in his ears.

"He is the Lord of the Nazrul-The greatest of the nine...Minas Morgul is his lair."

Pippin shivered, but his mind pulled up a memory of the company sitting around one of the fires as they had travelled from Rivendell. He and Merry had been pestering Thennil and Strider for stories, annoying them with their constant chatter until Thennil finally caved. She had told them many tales, most of which she had had some part in, but one stood out to him as Gandalf mentioned the Witch-King.

Cocking his head, he looked up at the wizard. "Didn't Thennil fight him?"

The wizard looked own at him curiously.

"The Witch-King, I mean. Didn't she fight him long ago?"

Gandalf nodded, but shook his head. "She did, but it almost cost her, her life. He is a formidable opponent, there are few who have lived to tell the tale of their fight against him."

"Then she could fight him, right?"

"Perhaps,' stated the wizard, a worried look slipping over his features.

"Then we should be fine,' said the hobbit, straightening and turning back to the room.

"Perhaps,' murmured the wizard, praying that all would end well.

 **Thennil** watched as the clouds gathered in the south, the darkness growing. Legolas stood with her on the stones of the Golden Hall, peering out into the darkness. They could see farther than any of the mortal men that stood at their posts around them, but even Legolas could not see the flickers of light from Mount Doom far away in the South. Thennil allowed a small spark of her power out to push her towards the light, and shuddered.

"It has come at last...' she whispered quietly. 'The great battle of our time."

Legolas turned to her, knowing that she could see more than he, concerned that she was using to much of her strength. He laid a hand on her arm as she looked out.

"This war is long planned, even before my own birth. Sauron has hated The West through many ages...It is a hatred that flows from the depths of time, across the deeps of the Sea." She turned away from the images of the south, growing darker and darker by the minute. "The board is set, the pieces are moving, the only question is who will triumph?"

 **Eowyn** found her the next morning, mending her leather armor, which had seen better days. The lady watched as her needle flew in and out of the punched holes, pulling the leather tighter with each stitch. Thennil could feel the eyes of her friend upon her, and looked up.

"Yes?"

The women looked down at her clasped hands, toeing the ground with her shoe. She wrung her hands, glancing around at the men and women hurting hither and thither in their work day. "Would-would you teach me more, like you did in the caves?"

Thennil looked over Eowyn, noticing the less elegant dress, and tight sleeves, the leather apron that she wore over her clothing. She knew that Eowyn was strong willed, and loved her country, but she still worried about her. She had never seen open battle. Never seen men, her friends, cut down before her eyes. Never seen the immense amount of blood that flowed. She didn't know what to expect, didn't know how to prepare herself. She sighed; but Eowyn was a woman of Rohan, and not easily swayed in her desires, she would not stop until she had been victorious. Standing, she nodded.

"I'm assuming you have your sword?" she asked.

Eowyn nodded, "In my room, yes."

"Fetch it, and meet me behind the Golden Hall."

Eowyn smiled conspiratorially, and rushed away.

"You know that you shouldn't encourage her,' a voice spoke up behind her.

She shrugged, 'I know. But she will still find some way to learn.' she turned around, looking up into his silvery-blue eyes. 'But I would rather, if she is determined to learn, that she learn from someone who has had years of experience."

He pulled her into a side hug, leaning down to nuzzle her curly hair. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Keep me close to your heart?" she asked, seriously.

"That place has always been reserved for you,' he chuckled kissing her forehead.

"But not to close,' she whispered.

He never heard her.

 **"Eowyn!'** her sharp voice snapped through the breeze that swirled around them. 'Be aware of you're surroundings!"

She groaned, wishing she had years to train this young woman. Eowyn was very talented, having trained with her brother when he was a young lad just starting to learn about war, but she tended to get caught up in her emotions and loose awareness. Said young woman picked herself up from the ground. Eowyn brushed off the dirt that had gotten onto her gown, and gripped her sword harder.

"Don't tense your hands up so much,' she suggested, showing her tight, but not death-like grip on her sword. 'Tensing a lot is going to tire you out faster. Just have a firm grip on it."

Eowyn nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "I trained with my brother some, but it was never as intense as all this."

Chuckling, she swiped at the woman, causing Eowyn to duck beneath her blade. The woman gasped, leaning backwards and the blade sung over her. Snapping back up, she glared at Thennil. Lunging forward, she stabbed at her friend, pivoting when the elf retaliated to her advance. Back and forth they went, and the minutes ticked by as the elf instructed the woman in the finer details of battle, trying to prepare her for some of the horrors that she might encounter if she got caught up in it. Which she was pretty sure that Eowyn would _conveniently,_ get mixed up in.

Leaning against one of great stones that rose out of the green lawn behind the Golden Hall, Thennil looked up over the mountains. She hoped to see the beacon coming alight, but it was not to be. The men standing by their hovel upon the mountain were cooking over their fire, sipping from jugs as they talked. Running a hand through her hair, she winced as it caught on a knot. Eowyn stood with her, looking out over the plains.

She sighed with longing.

"You see to be doing that a lot,' Thennil observed, watching as her friends eyes roamed over the hills and plains in front of them towards the land beyond.

"I've always felt it was my duty to remain here, in Edoras, watching over the Hall and it's people,' remarked Eowyn, playing with a loose thread on her dress. 'But for years I have longed to escape these halls, to ride the hills with my brother, to see the world, different people and places."

Thennil nodded.

"I've heard that in Dol Amroth, in their port city, that you can seen the most exotic things from both the far north, and south. The woven rugs of the Haradrim, their strange beasts, which are said to have great humps upon their backs; birds of great size with feathers all the colors of the rainbow; Men with skin so dark that it is likened unto the coal of our fires, but with eyes of bright green or violet.'

"So much that I have only been able to dream about, but never allowed to see,' she finished mournfully.

"Perhaps after we win this war, you might get your wish,' Thennil said, laying a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"I think not,' replied Eowyn sadly. 'I will have my responsibilities here, managing my uncle's hall and overseeing Meduseld. I doubt my uncle will remarry anytime soon and reproduce an heir. Eomer is next in line, and so it will be expected of him to marry well, to produce the heir our people need."

Thennil smirked, a vision passing before her eyes in a flash, full of color. "You may be in for a surprise."

Eowyn rolled her eyes, turning from the hills back towards the hall. Thennil, catching a light out of the corner of her eye, grabbed her arm. "The beacon!"

Twisting back around, Eowyn's eyes grew wide, and she gasped. "The beacons have been lit!"

They both looked at one another before rushing up to the back of the hall, entering through one of the many servant doors located there. Running through the passageways, past servants and courtiers, they dodged those around them, breath coming in pants. They stumbled into the Great Hall, coming to a stop beside Eomer. Aragorn stood before the hall, hair disheveled as he looked at the king, desperate. The hall fell silent as all turned to look at their leader, holding their breath. Tension rose steadily as he didn't say a word, looking intently at the ground. Thennil clenched Eowyn's hand tightly, whispering prayers to Varda and the other Valar.

"Gondor calls for aid!"

Looking up slowly, Theoden met Aragorn's eye with a stoney look. "Then Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!"

 **The** great bells of Meduseld rang out over the plains, calling the men to war. In the courtyard before the hall men were running to and for. Some were saddling their steeds, others were packing wagons with provisions, and a great clamor could be heard throughout the whole city. Thennil begged Theoden to send one of his swiftest riders to Lothlorien with a note from her to her grandmother, begging for reinforcements at the battlefield. He had thought to refused, but one he had heard who, or rather whom, her grandmother was, he was more than willing to send of of their fastest riders to Lorien. She had quickly written a note, sending with it one of her signet rings that she kept within a small pouch at her side. Then, rising, she had gone to the stable and collected her horse, saddling him as fast as possible, and swinging up onto his back.

Among the men she found Gimli and Legolas, mounted double on their horse, watching as the riders hurried by. Gimli huffed, snorting as the horses sped by.

"I wish I could muster an army of Dwarves, fully armed and angry." he stated, sniffing at the Rohirrim as they rode by.

She shook her head, knowing that even now, the lives of her niece and her husband were being put at risk.

"You're kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear it already marches on their own lands."

The flag of the Rohirrim flapped in the wind, making the horse upon they're banner look like it was running across a field of green grass. Theoden rode among his warriors, helmet off as he looked south. It would be before the walls of Minas Tirith that their doom would be decided, and he hoped it would be in their favor.

"Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan- Oaths you have taken. Now, fulfill them all-For Lord and land!"

And so they rode forth across the plains, like a winding snake across the ground, the line stretched on for many miles. Theoden rode his white horse, Snowmane, as Eomer pounded along beside him on Forefoot. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli followed close behind them, and a little way behind them were Eowyn and Thennil. Before them rose the mountains, and among them their destination, Dunharrow.

Soon all had departed, leaving the once noisy city in dead silence, a town abandoned. From the gates watched the few who had been left behind, watching as the long trailing line disappeared into the distance over the hills of rolling grass. Women and children left behind wondering if their men will ever return to them in one piece atop their horse, or in a wagon with the dead.

Over the hills and fields they rode, and into the night, the pack horses galloping along behind the riders as they galloped. Swiftly through the night they rode, and passed over a large stream that wound down from the mountains. It was then that a Rider galloped up from the rear of their line.

"My lord,' he said to the king, 'There are horsemen off to our right, behind us. As we crossed the stream at the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They are overtaking us, riding hard."

Theoden immediately halted the line. The Riders turned about and seized their spears. Aragorn dismounted, drawing his sword as he went to stand by the king's stirrup. Homer and his esquire rode back to the rear. Sitting beside her on his horse, Merry felt more like unneeded baggage than ever, even if he had become an esquire of Rohan, and he wondered, if there was a fight, what he should do. Supposing the king's small escort was trapped and trampled upon, but then escaped into the darkness-alone. In the wild fields of Rohan he didn't have the slightest idea of where he was in the endless miles of rolling green hills.

The sinking moon was obscured by a great sailing cloud in the dark sky above, but suddenly it rode out clear again. It was then that she heard the sound of hooves, pounding into the ground in a fast rhythm long before the other's saw the dark shapes coming swiftly over the hills from off to their right. The moonlight glinted off of their tall spears, and the number of their pursuers could not be told, but they seemed somewhat fewer than the great host that rode with the king.

When they were some fifty paces off, Eomer cried in a loud voice, his deep baritone ringing over the plains: 'Halt! Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

Their pursuers brought their steeds to an abrupt halt, the horses dancing in places. Silence reigned over the field; and then in the moonlight, they could just make out two horsemen dismounting and walking slowly forward. One raised his hand showing white as he held it up, palm outward, in a token of peace; but the king's men gripped their weapons as they watched the other man who walked beside him. At ten paces the men stopped. The one on the left was tall and broad, and in the light they could see the gleaming silver strands of hair falling down from his brow. The man on the left was shorter, but no less broad than his companion, but he seemed old, yet strong for his age. There was less sliver in his hair, but he seemed more weary. A voice spoke out from them, and Thennil focused on the shorter one, while listening to the taller of the twos words. He seemed familiar.

"Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in hast from long afar from the north-west." the speaker said, his voice cheering.

"You have found it,' said Eomer. 'When you crossed the fords at Isen you entered it. But it is the realm of Theoden the king. None ride here save by his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?"

"What is with these whippersnappers now days?' asked the shorter one, groaning, while the taller one replied.

"Halbarad Dunadan, Ranger of the North I am,' cried the man. 'And this is Alebard. We seek one Aragorn son of Arathorn, and Eclipse, we heard that they were in Rohan."

Theoden wrinkled his brow, but Aragorn leapt forward, joy evident in his voice. "And you have found him also!"

The ranger handed his reigns over to Legolas, and ran forward to greet the newcomer. "Halbard! Of all joys this is the least expected!"

Merry began to sigh with relief, but was cut off as the other man huffed, embracing Aragorn, but turning to look among Theoden's men curiously. "Where is Eclipse?"

The Rider's looked between one another in confusion, cocking their heads to the side as they watched the man look them over. Dismounting from her horse, Thennil strode out of the throng of men, Eowyn's hushed voice whisper-shouting at her as she slipped through. As she came into the moonlight, she threw back her hood, letting her hair leap free and glitter in the light. The man laughed, drawing her into an embrace and swinging her around. He began shouting quickly in a mix of Sindarin, Quenya, and Westron, babbling on and on while motioning to the group behind him. She chuckled, clasping his arm with her hand and nodding her head.

"All is well,' said Aragorn, turning back. 'Here are some of my own kin from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they be, Halbarad shall tell us."

"I have forty with me,' said Halbarad, 'And Alebard brings twenty with him. That is all our kindred that could be gathered in hast; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir are riding behind us, desiring to go to war. We rode as swiftly as we might when your summonings came."

"But I did not summon you,' said Aragorn, 'save only in wish. My thoughts have often turned towards you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have send no word. But come! All such matters must wait till later. You find us riding in haste and danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave."

Theoden was indeed glad of the news, for any addition to their ranks was welcome in their hour of need. 'It is well!' he said. 'If these kinsmen be in any way like yourself, my lord Aragorn, sixty such knights will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads. But what is this, Elladan and Elrohir? Who are these men?"

"They are not men at all, my Lord,' Thennil stated, stepping up before the king, Alebard at her elbow. 'They are my brother's; and to answer your question, Aragorn,' she said turning to meet his eye. 'I sent the letter to my grandmother, but she must have foreseen our need and sent out word ahead of it."

"And if these brother's of yours, my lady, fight anything like you, they are welcome." stated Theoden.

She smiled. "They were given the same training as I, and those that ride with them have had similar."

Theoden nodded in shock, amazed that the elves would send them aid. She turned to Halbarad, looking him over and into the distance behind his company.

"How far were my brother's?" She asked with concern.

"They were a day and a half behind us, but I am sure that by tomorrow night they will have joined us." Alebard assured, resting a hand on her arm.

She nodded.

 **Please let me know what you think so far! It's very important to me.**

 **Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	57. Chapter 54

They set out again, but this time Aragorn rode for while with the Dunadain; and when they had spoken of tidings of the North and in the South, he rejoined the other riders among the Rohirrim. Thennil drew Eowyn away from her brother's watchful eye, assuring him that she would be well looked after, Eowyn rolling her eyes when he wasn't looking. Leading Eowyn through the horsemen, she joined her friends among the rangers in their ranks, riding swiftly along with them and passing news back and forth between them while Argoth flirted with her. She was amazed at their ages, as she had been with Aragon's and laughed at the jokes they made.

The night was old and the East grey when they rode up at last from the Deeping-coomb and came to Dunharrow. Soon they were setting up camp, pitching tents, kindling fires, shepherding the horses, and laying out their weapons and armor to check over. Legolas and Gimli stood together on a rise, looking down at the camp which was steadily becoming more organized. They watched the men move back and forth, moving wagons and goods from this spot to another under the guidance of Gamling. Gimli watch Thennil with her companions, working together to set up tents and move barrels around the encampment.

"These are a strange company, these newcomers,' the dwarf said. 'Stout men and lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost like boys beside them; for they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most part, even as Aragorn himself is at times; and they are silent."

"And yet, even as Aragorn is, they are courteous if they break their silence,' said Legolas, watching as the group around Thennil broke out into loud laughter, bending over while holding their sides. 'It is a wonder that I have not seen more of them near Mirkwood, Thennil says that her friends travel all over the North."

"Perhaps their movements escape even you're elf-eyes,' smirked Gimli.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, 'I think not."

Gimli rolled his eyes.

Merry, who had come upon them stopped, looking over the great host, spotting the Grey Company. "Where do you suppose they came from?"

He had not heard Thennil's report on the subject.

"They answered a summons, as I'm sure you heard among the Riders,' said Gimli. 'Word came to Rivendell it seems, they say: _Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dunedain ride to him in Rohan!_ I would have thought that Gandalf sent it, but it seems that Thennil sent the word."

"Nay, Galadriel,' said Legolas. 'Thennil spoke with her Grandmother, asking for reinforcements, but that was through a letter." He paused, confused, then continued. "Perhaps she has some of the Golden Lady's gifts, being able to speak through her mind."

"The Lady of the Wood!' sighed Gimli. 'She reads many hearts and desires. Now why did we not wish harder for some of our own kinsfolk Legolas?"

The elf said nothing, only turning to look away north and east, his fair face troubled.

 **The** trio mounted up on their steeds, and rode to join Aragorn and Thennil who rode through their part of the camp with the king. They passed many tents pitched beneath the trees. The area teemed with men, horses, and tents as far as they could see. The king rode through, nodding and greeting his men as he went, looking for his lords in ernest. Finally, they came upon Grimbold, a marshall of Rohan.

"Gimbaled, how many?"

"I bring five hundred Men from the Westfold, my Lord." replied the old man, bowing before his king. Theoden nodded, greeting another Marshall.

"We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Theoden King."

Theoden smiled grimly, riding on through the camp.

"Where are the riders of Snowboard?" he asked quietly.

"None have come, My Lord.' replied Gamling, just as quiet.

The king nodded stiffly.

The Grey company pitched their tents a little apart from the Riders, and it was far quieter than that of the Rohirrim. Their tents were simple, made from a tan canvas, and they wore cloaks of dark grey, and their hoods were cast now over helm and head. Their horses were strong and of proud bearing, but rough-haired; and one stood there without a rider, Thennil's own horse that they had brought from the North; Roheryn was his name. He was a handsome horse, and not stocky and rough-haired like the ranger's horses, but smooth and soft to the touch, though his looks belied his fierce temper. There was no gleam of stone or gold, nor any fair thing in all their gear and harness; nor did their riders bear any badge or token, save only that each cloak was pinned upon the left shoulder by a brooch of silver shaped like a rayed star.

Among them walked Aragorn in the early afternoon light with Halbarad. But the Rohirrim, and Merry had eyes only for him, so startling was the change that they saw in him, as if in one night many more years had fallen from him, for he was among his kinsman. Thennil sat with Merry under one of the trees, catching her breath after working hard among the men. She chuckled at his gapping mouth as he watched the ranger.

"He looks so young, doesn't he?' she asked, smiling fondly after her love.

Merry nodded, snapping his mouth shut. "He does, and yet, he doesn't. You can see it in his eyes, though his physical features look youthful."

She nodded, "He has not seen many of his people for many a year, so far has he travelled and walked the world over on missions of his own making."

So saying, she stood from her spot, and whistled to her horse, Roheryn. The dappled grey lifted his head, a clump of grass hanging from his mouth as he did so. She chuckled, and called for him again as he trotted over eagerly. He bore no saddle, nor reigns, and was freer than a bird as she lifted his hooves high. The wind wafted through his mane of dark hair, blowing it around him in the breeze. Grabbing Merry by the waist, she hugged him to her body, reaching up with her right hand, she grabbed a handful of Roheryn's mane, and swung up onto his back. Merry squeaked, clutching at her tunic tightly and breathing hard as they came to settle atop the horse. Looking about them, he gulped. They were very high off the ground, much higher than he had been upon his pony.

She clucked to him, and they sped up the slopes to the mountain. As they rode, the Rohirrim shouted to her, greeting her by the name she had received long ago, Trewrun. She replied, raising her hand to them, galloping past with a grim grin. Up through the ranks of tents they sped, sweeping past the smithy's, the armorers, and the cooks over their tasks, past the men checking their gear, making sure all their straps were well oiled and that none were old and at risk of breaking during battle. Merry gasped at the speed at which they rode, the men flashing past in the blink of an eye as they came to the narrow path that led up to the bluff upon which the king and his closest men camped. They took the winding road slowly, Thennil kept them away from the edge of the path so that Merry would feel less uncomfortable. Though he was afraid of heights, he looked over her arms eagerly as the ground fell away below them and he could see the camp stretched out in every direction. She heard his inhale of awe as they got high enough to be able to see past one of the higher bluffs that stuck out from the mountains.

When they got to the top of the bluff, and exited the path, she guided Roheryn through the throngs of men to where she saw the other horses tethered. Dismounting, she grabbed Merry under the arms, and gently settled him on the ground. Smiling, they walked over to the edge of the bluff, though not to close. She had already asked Eowyn before what she could do to help, but the woman had shoo'd her away and told her to get lost, to enjoy the time with her friends that she had. Alebard, Argoth, and Gael had all been given leave to set up their tent upon the bluff alongside Halbarad's, and had quickly said their good-bye's to the men below, promising to see them later. Legolas and Gimli had been left to wander around the bluff, observing the goings on together.

Merry soon left her, feeling queasy at the drop before him, so she sat on the edge alone.

Soon her three friends joined her on the parapet, draping their legs over the side like herself. Out of the corner of her eye she observed them, feeling a little heavier when she saw how much they had changed.

Alebard, who had been the oldest of the group, and was a distant relative of Halbarad, had changed much. The last time she had seen him he had been thirty-seven, a strapping young man, with a handsome beard and strong hands. He was still strong, but their was a weariness about him, a new thread of wisdom in his eyes that had not been there all those years ago. Where his hair had been overly thick and of a dark brown, now a few threads of silver and grey trickled through them, his beard speckled with the same.

Gael was much the same. Tall, strong, quiet. He had never been the talkative one, butting into conversations and flirting with women when they were around like Argoth. He had grown broader, and filled out more. His beard, which had been very patchy in his youth had grown in, and was quite magnificent, though Gimli had still teased him over it. He had blushed softly, shrugging his shoulders and said that his beard was no match for that of a dwarf, and left the conversation at that.

It shouldn't have surprised her to see that gawky Argoth had turned into a rather handsome young man. He had only been twenty when they had parted, still struggling to be a man, but with a heart of gold. His thin frame had bulked up in a smooth way, like a acrobat or performer, and he shaved his beard, stating that in Esgoroth and Dale that it was all the new rage, having a clean-shaven face. Even with all his jokes and jolly attitude, she could see that being a ranger had taken it's toll on him. The youthful light had diminished, though his flirtatious ways hadn't disappeared yet, and he begun to learn when the time for chatter was and when it wasn't, though she was sure that he wouldn't totally get the concept until he was much, much older.

"So,' started Argoth, kicking his legs out over the empty space before them, 'You're here, we're hear, Loverboy is here, there's a dwarf, a halfling, and the blonde haired prickling. What did we miss?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "You were following him everywhere, grant it you weren't always where people could notice you, but you haven't let him out of your sight."

"You love him,' Gael spoke, looking over Argoth towards her. A blush began creeping up her neck, and her ears turned pink. 'There is hardly a greater gift than to be seen fully by someone, then for that someone to love you anyhow. It is the most human offerings that border on the miraculous."

"I'm happy for you, Thennil,' Alebard said, resting a hand on her shoulder as they watched the sun sink closer to the western horizon.

"I missed you guys,' she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He hummed, laying his head atop her own, much like her father had done when she was a small child. She smiled, wishing that he was with her.

 **Night** fell upon the camp, and Thennil joined Eowyn in her tent, dressing Merry in some armor. They went back and forth, finding something that was close to his size. There wasn't time to have anything taken in or shortened for his stature, so they were hard put to piece together a full set. Thennil had scouted among her companions, finding a small shield here, a set of bracers there, while Eowyn looked among the armor that had been brought from Meduseld and Helm's Deep. They laughed as the hobbit tried on piece after piece, finally finding the right combination after the hundredth change. Eowyn took one of the many helmets of the cot and placed it on the halflings head.

"There!' she laughed, adjusting the strap as much as she could. 'A true Esquire of Rohan."

Merry exhaled heavily, his eyes blown with with both excitement and terror. In his excitement he drew his sword quickly, making Eowyn duck out of the way as it came flinging up. She gasped, and held her hands up as the hobbit stepped back. Then the two women began to chuckle, and a congraduating nod past between Thennil and Eowyn.

"Sorry,' muttered Merry, looking at the blade despondently, 'it isn't all that dangerous. It isn't even sharp."

"Well, that's no good, you won't kill many Orcs with a blunt blade,' Eowyn said, wrapping her hands around the blade, a large grin on her face. Come on!"

"And I might see if they can shorten the strap on that helmet for you, Merry,' she told the hobbit as she tugged on the helmet, it twisted to one side, covering one of his eyes. He grinned and pushed it back into place.

"Definitely!"

They exited the tent, the light of the fire dancing over the white canvas rosily. Around the fire on stools sat Eomer, Gamling and a few other men, eating the leftovers from the soup she had thrown together earlier. Merry swung the sword around, the blade singing through the air as he hurried over the grass. Thennil watched from the entrance of the tent as Eowyn ushered him away.

"To the Smithy-go!"

Merry nodded, swinging his sword as he went as he skipped along. Eomer watched the hobbit go, shaking his head. He stared into the fire as he spoke, then back towards Eowyn.

"You should not encourage him,' he reprimanded.

She clenched her fists in her skirts, 'You should not doubt him."

"I do not doubt his heart...Only the reach of his arm."

Gamling stifled a laugh, trying to cover it up with a cough as he spooned another scoop of the stew into his mouth.

Eowyn glared at the two, 'Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you,' then to herself, 'Why can he not fight or those he loves?"

"You know as little of war as that hobbit,' said Eomer, standing to look at her as she walked away. 'When the fear takes him- he walked towards her- and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold. Do you think he will stand and fight?"

Eowyn said nothing, but searched his face with her large eyes.

"He would flee. And he would be right to do so.' he laid a hand on her shoulder, staring into his sister's eyes pointedly. 'War is the provinces of Men, Eowyn."

Eowyn turned away, her face passive, but her eyes like molten lava. Thennil stepped from the tent, blinking away the glassy look in her eyes, and her hands went to her hips.

"Let him think what he wants,' she whispered. 'I'm sure he will change his mind in the future."

Eowyn sighed, and Thennil walked past her, slapping Eomer over the head in the process while one of the other soldiers walked past him. Her hand immediately fell to her side where she fingered on of the throwing knives strapped to her thigh. He whipped around and looked about him, eyes alight while Eowyn had to rush into her tent to keep from laughing. Thennil smiled smuggle as she slipped her cloak around her shoulders and sat down before the fire of her friends. She stared into it, letting her body slip into the place between sleeping and waking, letting her mind rest from the days events.

 **"Thennil."**

She turned towards the voice in her dream. Blinking, she shook her head trying to dissipate the darkness that seemed to swallow her up. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, blinking them and opening them wider trying to see anything. She continued to turn and turn, stepping out with her hands in front of her as she explored this strange world.

She seemed to walk for hours, never hitting a wall, or finding a dip in the ground she walked upon. There was no light, not even a small ray that broke through the darkness. Her hands were outstretched before her as she desperately tried to find something, anything that would tell her where she was. The ground had no texture, and the air was like heavy smoke. The lack of light had not bothered her in the beginning, she had assumed that perhaps the clouds covered the stars in the sky, but it seemed she was wrong. The longer she walked, the more concerned she became.

Finally she felt the change in the air. It was still heavy, but there was a different type of heaviness, filled with sorrow. She continued on, running faster through the darkness, following the change. Then slowly, out of the darkness she could see a small ray of bluish light, something she had never seen before. Changing her direction, she hurried towards it eagerly. As she ran, she began to notice things about her surroundings. There were great dark pillars, and the floors were of something that resembled a dark marble. A strange mist hung in the air as her eyes adjusted to the lighting. Stopping for a moment, she went to touch the pillars, just to make sure that they were real, and gasped when her hand seemed to go right through the object, and yet she felt it. Felt it's form, and yet could not touch it. Scrambling back from it she twisted around, staring at the other pillars, panic creeping into her heart. Hurrying on to the next one, she went to touch it, but yet again, her hand passed through it. Abandoning the pillars, she hurried through them, and up the stairs and into the hall, terrified. Where was she? How did she get here? Why was she here?

Up the long black staircase she ran, running towards the blue light. Finally, after passing many rooms and passages, she came to the center of the citadel, and there stopped before a large basin. Peering over the edge of the pool, she gasped at the bright blue light that she saw there. It was pure, and so still that it resembled glass. She stopped herself from reaching out and touching it, feeling that this was something sacred, and beautiful. Looking closer, she could not see her reflection, and began to worry. With something that seemed to radiate with light, reflecting off of itself, she would assume that it reflected what shone on it's surface. She was then reminded of her Grandmother's mirror, and how it would show a glimpse of the possible future, perhaps this pool was like that.

"Thennil." a voice called, and she turned around, her brow furrowing as she saw a great throne, draped in dark velvet like fabrics, dark against the backdrop of bluish light that shone upon the walls around her.

"Thennil!"

She began to walk towards it, but felt someone grab her from behind, shaking her. She struggled against the hold, wanting to see what, or rather who sat upon that throne.

 _ **"Thennil!"**_

Jolting, she twisted around, dagger in hand as she glared up at her opponents. Her jaw dropped. "Elladan? Elrohir?"

The twins grinned, lifting their hands up in submission. She shook her head, blinking, and looked up at them again. Sheathing her dagger, she stood to her feet, swaying with the swiftness of her movements. She tried to steady herself as she saw not two, but four her brothers going back and forth in her vision. She reached out to grab something to steady herself, and would have tumbled to the ground if her brothers' hadn't rushed forward to catch her.

"What is this?' Elladan asked, helping her sit down on the stones set around the fire. He kept his hand on her lower back protectively.

"I didn't realize you would get her so soon,' she muttered, rubbing her forehead in attempts to dissipate the dizziness.

"What? You think we would crawl along like slugs?' Elrohir teased.

She rolled her eyes, 'No, but Halbarad said that you wouldn't arrive until tomorrow night."

Elladan huffed, flipping his long dark hair over his shoulder. "We were eager to see you, big sister."

"I'm sure you were,' she laughed, raising an eyebrow. 'It didn't have anything to do with wanting to see how Legolas was fairing with the constant companionship of a certain dwarf?"

Both of her brother's gave her an innocent look, their eyes filled with mischief. "Not at all."

"We seem to have come at the right time,' Elrohir said, turning serious. 'You are ill, sister."

She shook her head, 'Not exactly."

"That is what it looks like,' said Elladan, looking her over, from her paler than normal features, to the slight tremor in her hands, she was changed. 'This quest has taken it's toll on you."

She shrugged.

"It is not so much the quest, but the darkness that is growing steadily,' came a new voice, much deeper, and sadder than she remembered it being.

Stepping out of the shadows came her father, draped in a dark cloak much like her brothers wore. She stood, not swaying this time, and smiled. Her father returned her grin, though his was much heavier than her own. Walking around the fire, he came to a stop before her, cupping her face with his slender fingers. Her brother's didn't know exactly what to think when their father drew her into a tight hug burying her face in his chest, and his head in her hair. They knew something was terribly wrong when a few tears escaped from their father's dry eyes, falling into their sister's hair.

"Ada,' Elladan asked barely above a whisper. 'What's wrong?"

Elrond did not speak, but the brother's gasped when they noticed the difference in light that seemed to emulate from their sister compared to their father. It was dim, and seemed to flicker, sputtering. The wall that had been blocking their bond with their sister seemed to melt away and they could feel the immense pain slip past her barriers. Standing to their feet they gaped at images in their minds eye. Their father was a bright beacon of light, shining out into the darkness of their mind; Thennil, on the other hand, stood in their minds, a figure with darkness creeping up her arms and legs, slowly making it's way to her heart, the noose closing in around her.

"No." stated Elladan definitely. 'No. She's not dying."

"She can't be,' whispered Elrohir, a tear escaping his own eye, trickling down his long angular face to drip off onto the ground.

Thennil turned to look at her young brother's, and tried not to cry at their disbelieving expressions, the pain in their eyes that was greater than any man could know. She had always been the strong one, the brave one. She had been the leader of their trio through the ages, always leading their scouting parties, skirmishes, and the like. They had no clue how to understand what was happening, it was such a foreign notion, something that they had never thought about.

After a few moments of trying to wrap their minds around the situation, Elladan straightened. He looked up at them, as Thennil had turned in her father's arms to look at the despair in her brother's eyes, and glared at their surroundings. He had watched one member of his family start fading before his eyes, he was not going to let it happen again.

"You have to leave,' he stated, face hardening as he looked over the landscape towards the sea. 'There is a ship waiting in the harbor to take our people over the sea."

She shook her head, "Elladan-

"I will not lose anyone else!' he cried, silver eyes reflecting the flames of the fire.

"I was never yours to lose,' she whispered, stepping towards him.

"No,' he stated; a few tears slipped from her eyes as she saw the same look that had overtaken his features when their mother sailed over the sea slip into place.

"I can't leave them, Elladan,' she told him, grabbing ahold of his arms, palms sweaty.

"But you can't stay,' said Elrohir, speaking for the first time.

Elladan turned to his brother, triumph blossoming on his hard features, 'See, even Elrohir agrees with me."

He whistled to his horse, then again, lower, for Roheryn. The two horses trotted over, standing just on the edge of the fire. Elladan scooped up her things, dumping them into a bag before throwing it over the horse's back. He moved around her, grabbing her sleeping roll and buckling it to the straps that lay over Roheryn's back. Turning he looked at her, he clenched his fists at his sides.

"There is not a ship that can carry me over the sea, Elladan,' she whispered, a hand coming to rest over the pain that shot through her heart.

His shoulders slumped. He never enjoyed arguing with his siblings, and it hurt more than he would ever tell them. "What does your heart say?"

"That I belong here, even if I end up fading away,' she told him, taking his face into her calused hands, his features torn between anger and sorrow. 'I love him."

He let out a breath of hair, the puff rustling the strands of hair handing in her face. A tear slipped down his face, and the dam broke as all his emotions flashed across his face, "Really?"

"With all my heart,' she said, brushing aside the tears. 'Even if I wasn't slipping away, I wouldn't be able to take that ship across the sea."

"I can't lose you, not like Naneth,' he said, burying his face in her chest. Too often we forget that our younger brothers are still that, our brothers, who though they have seen the nasty parts of the world, still have tender hearts. She combed through his long dark hair, and let him cling to her waist, letting him be vulnerable for a few moments in the safety of her arms.

"Even when you cannot see it,

It is then that you have to believe,

It just takes faith, and trust, and a bit of hope,

So try, try and believe.

That all those precious stories,

All the world is made of faith, and trust,

and hope."

He stood, pulling out of her arms, as she rested her hand on his shoulder. Turning, she beckoned her other brother over, and rested one hand upon his shoulder.

"No matter how far I go, even where you cannot follow,' she rester her hand on their hearts, 'I will always be in you heart."

"And we in yours,' the twins whispered in unison, pulling her into a tight hug.

Withdrawing, Elrohir turned to something he had left behind in the shadows. Lifting up the wrapped item, he brought it into the firelight. Thennil's brow wrinkled as she tried to figure out what the large item was. It was flat, and rectangular, though not overly large. Holding it in one arm, Elrohir flung back the cloth that covered it, and her jaw dropped. There resting amid the velvet lay a shield of a make she had never seen. It was of mithril, that she could tell by the bright silver metal along the edge, and the bright tree reaching up to the sky, stars sparkling around it. She knew that tree, those stars, and what they symbolized, she had stitched the same pattern into a blue velvet long ago, keeping it until the ranger was ready to take on the robe of a king. She covered her mouth with her hands, reaching out with one to trace the patter, feeling the cool metal against her warm palm.

"It's beautiful,' she gasped, 'Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet,' Elrohir chuckled, and nodded to Elladan, who pulled a long thin item from his cloak.

He laid it in her hands, a sword. Pulling it out, she gaped at it's magnificence. It was long and had a slight curve to the blade, like one she had seen before. She withdrew it from it's sheath, and held it up in the firelight. The flames bounced off the silver metal, casting shadows on it's surface as she turned it this way and that. She swung it a few times, and Elrohir handed her the shield so that she could test them both out at the same time. Both were perfectly balanced, crafted from the finest metals to be found. As she finished swinging it, she turned back to her brothers'.

"Thank you, they're-I can't even find a word to describe them,' she smiled, a few tears welling up in her sapphire blues.

"They were made a long time ago,' Elladan said, 'Grandfather and Glorfindel worked on them."

"The sword was originally one of Glorfindel's, he just remade it for you,' Elrohir stated, as she turned to look at the inscription of the blade.

 _Anna A_ _dmir Lom ah Togcalad Mina Fuin,_ it read, and on the edges of the shield along the bottom there lay an inscription.

 _Beriar, Meleth en Aran._

"I suppose that now would be a good time to give you this,' her father said from behind her. Slowly turning about, she looked at him, following his gaze down to the box he held within his slender fingers. It was of a dark wood, almost as dark as the night that surrounded them. He opened the lid slowly, and from within a white light glowed; when it dimmed she was able to see a white stone of starlight shining in the center of a delicate crown. Handing the box to Elrohir, Elrond motioned for her to kneel as he took the crown from among it's velvet cushion, lifting it up and placing it on her head. It settled among her curls, fitting tightly to her head, with the stone resting just below her hair-line.

"Rise, Thennil Oriel, daughter of Elrond, of the line of Eärendil, protector of king and common folk alike,' he spoke, tears in his eyes.

"Go forth and complete your duty."

 **So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.**

 **I'm posting early because I just needed something to take my mind off of things. Over this weekend we had to give our beloved puppy up. Apparently he ate some of the nylon fabric stuff that we put under the sand in our large sand box in the back yard, and it started to block his intestines and stomach. He was VERY sick. Took him to the vet and they told us that they could do surgery, but that it would cost at least $3000, or more. We couldn't** **afford it. We turned him over to the Humane Society in Racine, and they said that if he survived the night that they had a doctor that might be able to do the surgery the next day. We don't even know if he made it through the night, or through the surgery. They wouldn't tell us anything.**

 **Then my sister got hospitalized, and is going to be in the hospital for a few days as they monitor her, just making sure that she's okay. It was really scary. So, my whole weekend has been a super emotional roller coaster which has totally messed with me. I have to go to work today, and I have school early tomorrow morning, both of which I wish I didn't have to do. So, yeah, I decided that I needed to write to block out my world for a few hours...**

 **Thanks,**

 **A VERY emotional Robin**


	58. Chapter 55

So, my week has been totally screwed. My sister is in the hospital; we're not getting our dog back; and work has been kicking my butt having to get up every morning at 4:30 am. My emotions are all over the place and I am EXTREMELY exhausted. Like dead on my feet exhausted. This chapter may feet a little weird, and I'm sorry.

"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?' asked Legolas, reigns in hand as he drew his horse up next to Aragorn and Gimli.

Gimli stepped closer to Aragorn, looking up at the man as he pulled back his pipe to let out a puff of smoke. 'You might as well accept it-we're going with you, laddie."

Aragorn shook his head, smiling his acceptance.

Stepping out from among the tents, Thennil put a hand on her hip, resting the other on the hilt of her sword as she held Roheryn's reigns between her fingers. "We've travelled together thus far, why split up now?"

Aragorn shook his head at her, 'Nay, you will stay here."

She could see a new concern in his face, a worried look in his eye as he looked her over. She shrugged, wondering what had changed.

"You cannot keep me from where I belong,' she stated softly, mounting her horse and riding over beside him. He laid a hand on her leg, rubbing circles with his thumb. His eyes traveled over her face, as if he was memorizing every detail, every hair, every dimple.

"You will be safer here, with Eowyn,' he said, looking towards the woman's tent, though it was with sadness. She could sense something, there had been words exchanged, and it had hurt one of them. She had a feeling that it had been Eowyn. She prayed that the woman wouldn't go to any extreme lengths to drown herself so that she would't feel the pain.

"I will not be safe here, or with you, or sitting in my father's house, there is no point in trying to stop me."

He sighed, mounting up on Brego, taking her hand subtly in his larger callused one. She smiled, squeezing it, before letting go as he urged his horse through the maze of tents and campfires. As they wound their way through the camp, they came upon her three companions standing in their path. Alebard sat upon his horse, looking accusingly at her, sword resting on his hip.

"Thought you could slip away, did you?' he asked.

She blushed, 'I was hoping to slip past you all in the dark."

"Well, that didn't happen,' Argoth stated, chewing on a piece of hay like a cow.

She glanced back the way that they had come, and saw Eowyn standing at the entrance of her tent, staring after them with a blank face, void of any emotion. Twisting back around, she looked over her three friends.

"Could I ask a favor of you?' she asked.

Gael cocked an eyebrow, and Alebard and Argoth paused to look at her.

"I have a feeling that the White Lady will not be so easily dismissed from riding out with the men,' Alebard raised his eyebrows, 'I know that you are all capable of walking unseen, and spotting those who wish to remain anonymous. Would you watch over her for me?"

There were a few moments of tense silence as the trio looked from one to another, and Alebard nodded his head. "We'll watch over the Lady, and you're little halfling friend, Thennil."

"Thank you."

"May the stars light your way until the next time we meet,' Argoth murmured, dismounting from his horse.

"And may Varda have mercy in the battle to come,' she replied.

As they rode away, Gael called softly through the night air, 'I would expect company if I were you."

They rode through the camp swiftly, and soon a crowd of men began to follow them. They began to murmur and mutter, wondering where the four of them were going. Emerging from the shadows came Halbarad, dressed in his rangers garbs with ten of the Dunadan, and her two brothers. Their horses were saddled and their weapons visible as they waited for their chieftain.

"Wherever you go, we will follow,' Halbarad stated, nodding his head to Aragorn.

"Who have you left in charge of the men?"

"Herold."

Aragorn nodded and nudged Brego with his heel, disappearing into the darkness of the Path's of the Dead, the other's following close behind. First Halbarad, second Thennil, then Legolas and Gimli, after which the rest of the rangers followed one by one.

Aragorn turned and glanced back over his shoulder, wondering what would befall his friends in the battle to come. "There stay three that I love,' said he, 'and the smallest not the least. He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go on."

"A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,' said Halbarad. 'Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it not."

"And now our fates are woven together,' said Aragorn. 'And yet, alas! here we must part."

 **They** travelled all night, never looking back, nor stopping to rest their horses. When the sun rose, they continued to make their way through the gloomy canyons, which were shadowed by large black firs that seemed to glare down at them. Every noise echoed off of the stones, and even their soft breathing seemed loud to their ears. The only movement that could be see were the circling buzzards over head.

"The Paths of the Dead!' wondered Gimli. 'It is a fell name; and little to the liking to the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a road and not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to counter the strokes of Mordor?"

"The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim,' said Thennil from beside him. 'For it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the heir of Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen! This is the word that my brother's brought with my father from Rivendell, wisest in lore: _Bid Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead."_

"And what is that supposed to mean? Seer? What seer?' asked Gimli.

"Thus spoke Macbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, the last king at Fornost,' she said:

 _Over the land there lies a long shadow,_

 _westward reaching wings of darkness._

 _The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings_

 _doom approaches. The Dead awaken;_

 _for the hour is come for the oathbreakers:_

 _at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again_

 _and hear there a horn in the hills ringing._

 _Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them_

 _from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?_

 _The heir of him to who the oath they swore._

 _From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:_

 _he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead."_

Gimli shrugged, 'Dark ways, doubtless, but no darker than these words are to me."

"I cannot begin to explain what they meant, for I do not know,' she told the dwarf. 'Only these word are what my father said would help us."

The light was grey as they rode, for the sun could not seem to pierce through the clouds that surrounded the mountain. The black ridges of the Haunted Mountain were ever before them as they travelled up the path. A dread fell on them, even as they passed between the lines of ancient stones and farther up the Dimholt road.

"What kind of an army would linger in such a place?' Gimli asked after a time, shivering.

"One that is cursed...' replied Legolas from before the dwarf. 'Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last King of Gondor-to me to his aid, to fight, but when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled...Vanishing into the darkness of the mountain...And so Isildur cursed them- never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge."

The silence surrounded them once again as Gimli thought over the elf's words. There was no birds, no wind. Only the ominously muffled thud of their horses' hooves on the dank firneedles. Rising in their path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of doom. Around them the horses began to dance in fear, their eyes growing wide as they neared the stone. As they drew closer and tried to pass the stone, the horses reared, their shrill winnys high in fear as they pawed the air, until they were forced to dismount and lead them around it.

"My blood runs chill,' whispered Gimli, looking about.

And so they came at last into a deep glen, overshadowed by the tall stone walls that rose around it. There at the end stood a sheer wall of rock, dark and brooding, rising up to meet the sky. In it's wall a low dark door gaped open, much like a mouth of the darkest night. Around the edges of the door, and on doorposts, and mantle signs and figures were carved, too dim to read for mortal men, and fear flowed from it like a grey vapor.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the Dead keep it. The way is shut." read Legolas, translating the words for Gimli in a soft whisper.

Here the Company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did not quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves, for whom the ghosts of men have no terror, seeing as he was the only full-blooded elf in the group.

"This is an evil door,' said Halbarad.

A great gust of chilly wind seemed to rush out of the doorway, and the horses reared and bucked, pulling at the reigns in fear. Many of the men lost hold because of the suddenness of it, other because the horses, so strong with fear, ripped it out of their hands, turning and galloping away.

Aragorn turned resolutely back towards the door, his sword draw, eyes hard. "I do not fear death!"

And so saying, he walked into the blackness, the darkness quickly swallowing him up. Such was the strength of his will in that hour that all the Dunedain followed him through the door after Thennil. Legolas and her brother's followed quickly after, swallowed up in the dark, leaving Gimli outside the door by himself. Not a few seconds later did the three elves that walked at the back of the group feel him stumbling into their long legs as he hurried to catch up with them. They smirked, hearing his huffs and puffs as he hurried along behind them as they walked in the dark.

Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and lit them swiftly, bearing one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the rear, with Gimli stumbling along behind him, his short legs at a disadvantage compared to those of the men and elves. They travelled along, silent as death, but when they halted there seemed to be an endless whispering of voices all about them, murmuring words that he could not understand, nor had ever heard among the tongues of Men, Elves, or otherwise. Aragorn shone the light of the torch in one of the openings, and their eyes widened at the sight. Hundreds upon thousands of skulls lay piled up one on top of the other, some resting in holes in the wall, fully intact, others with jaws or teeth missing, empty eye-sockets staring out at them.

Aragorn moved on, but Legolas stayed, watching.

"What do you see?' asked the dwarf.

"I see shapes of horses, and men."

Gimli's eyes grew, and he looked to Thennil asking with his eyes if she saw the same. She nodded, looking about them curiously, yet with a dread filling her heart.

"Where?"

"Pale banners like the shreds of clouds,' continued the elf as they walked along. 'Spears rise like winters thickets through a shroud of mist."

Aragorn's eyes widened.

"The dead are following,' the elf whispered, his own eyes widening. 'They have been summoned."

Nothing overtook the company, or accosted them in the dark, and yet a steady fear grew in their hearts as they went on: most of all because they knew that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were thronged by an unseen host that hollowed in the dark. The darkness stretched on around them, and time did not have meaning as they walked through the caves. A mist rose up, and things like hands grabbed at them, though the mist couldn't grip them, it clawed at their clothes before dissipating when they waved their arms and hands through it. Waving her hand down through the ethereal mist, she heard Gimli blowing loudly behind her as they walked.

"Don't look down,' muttered Aragorn.

They came to a wider part of the corridor, where Aragorn halted the Company, leaning down over something that Gimli could not seen. Thennil peered over the shoulders of the men, and saw before him the bones of a mighty man. He was clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's air was as dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and garnets, and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward on the floor. Beneath their feet came the cracking like that of dry sticks, causing Gimli to look down, freezing for a moment at what his eyes beheld. Thennil, wondering at his stiffness, also looked down, and felt the contents of her stomach work their way up her throat. It was bones. Thousands upon thousands of human bones lying scattered across the ground; how deep she didn't know, nor did she care at that moment. The others must have discovered the same thing, as Aragorn hurried through the tunnel, bursting out of it after a few moments.

For a long while the road had tight, the walls close together, now it widened all of a sudden, stretching far as they could see. There they stopped, their jaws slack as they gazed up at a large building carved out of the stone. Aragorn turned round and round with his torch, searching the walls.

"Who enters my domain?' a voice echoed in the empty cavern. Turning, they found themselves staring at a ghostly figure, a pale sickly glow wafting around him. He was a vastly specter, not fully human looking, with parts of his skin missing in places. Where one would expect to see his eyes, there was only a strange glow, green like poison, that shone from the sockets. A dilapidated helm sat upon his head, crown-like, and it was evident that this ghoul was the King of the Dead.

"One who would have your allegiance!' cried Aragorn.

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass." stated the ghost.

"You will suffer me!' Aragorn said, unflinching as the King of the Dead laughed, his meniacle laughter ringing off the walls of the cavern, which lit up with many forms of men and horses, banners fluttering in a breeze that none of them could feel. They began chanting.

"The way is shut! It was made by those who are dead. And the dead keep it.' the ghost army closed in around them, and Thennil could feel the icy fingers of fear creeping up her spine. 'The way is shut! Now you must die!"

Legolas and her brother's fired arrows into the army, but they pass right through the specters, clattering onto the ground in the darkness. Aragorn moved towards the dead King.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath!"

The king laughed. "None but the king of Gondor can command me!"

The king advanced, swinging his sword at Aragorn. With the swiftness of one who has lived by the strength of his blade his whole life, Aragorn met the ghouls blow, blocking it with his sword, Anduril.

"It cannot be- that line -that blade was broken!' exclaimed the ghost in shock.

"It has been remade." proclaimed Aragorn, taking hold of the ghoul by the throat and pushing him back. The ghost army stood around them, staring at him silently. 'Fight for us, and regain your honor."

The dead army looked on him as he stood there, sword in hand. "What say you?"

He walked through the army while the others glanced about them nervously. Time stretched on, and Gimli was sure that it had to be sunrise outside the caves. Aragorn turned again, looking at the ghosts, voice low and hoarse. "What say you?!"

"Ach! You waste your time, Aragorn,' said Gimli. 'They had no honor in life, they have none now in death."

"I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me and I will hold your oath fulfilled. What say you?' he asked, desperate.

The Dead King began to laugh, deep and ominous, and around them the ghost army began to disappear, melting into the walls from whence they came. Aragorn looked around in desperation, watching as their only hope slipped through his fingers. The Dunedain looked about them in fear, their swords gripped tightly in their hands and their hair blowing in their faces.

"You have my word!' yelled Aragorn, 'Fight and I will release you from this living death! What say you?"

"Stand you traitors!" cried Gimli, yelling in his deep voice.

The laughter continued as the mist rolled away, showing a sandy floor as a breeze blew through the cavern. A cracking noise echoes around them, and they looked about, then up at the great stone fortress. The walls of the stronghold broke, cracking and shattering as thousands of skulls and bones burst forth from within, weighed down by the years.

"Out!" cried Aragorn, rushing towards the darkened doorway on the other side of the path. They rushed towards it, the skulls rolling down and making them loose their footing as they pushed through them. Thennil ushered the others on in front of her, urging the men over the clearer ground as they fled for their lives. It was so dark, so full of dust, and the bones kept tumbling down, there mission to engulf them, pulling them towards the edge of the chasm. She struggled against them, her strength weakening against the onslaught. The door seemed just out of her reach, and the shield on her back felt like an unnecessary burden at that moment, she wished that she had time to throw it away. She stumbled, the skulls roaring over her head, and disappeared beneath them, she could hear voices calling out her name, then strong hands gripping her forearms, lifting her up above the rubble, and pulling her through the doorway.

Looking up, she beheld her brothers', holding her in their arms as they rushed out of the tunnel, the dusk bursting out into the daylight. There were still many stones and cliffs blocking their view, a great stone stood in the middle of the clear area. The company took a moment to catch their breath before Elrohir handed a silver horn to Aragorn, who blew upon it. There was no response, only a dead silence. Hanging the horn over his shoulder, they made their way down through the cliffs, around the bends in the road, before popping out on a grassy hillside.

They freeze.

Before them lay the river, and smoke rose from it. The towns on it's banks were ablaze with flames, and great black ships sailed down it's waters. Aragorn sank to his knees before the sight, tears rising in his eyes as he beheld the sight. Thennil stepped to his side, and he leaned into her stomach, his tears staining her tunic as he wept, thinking they were too late.

A sound of horns grew around them, and they turned. From within the rocks came the King of the Dead, and grim was his face and features in the daylight. In his hand he held a sword, and around him the banners of the dead flew.

"We Fight!"

 **Together** the group stood upon the banks of the river, watching the ships sail closer, their great purple and red sails billowing in the breeze. Thennil had her sword in hand, and her feet were itching to move. Around her she could sense the tension, thicker than carmel, yet stretching, and tangible on her tongue. They waited for the ships to come closer, hear the shouts of the corsairs. When the largest ship grew near, they readied their weapons.

"You may go no further."

The ships boson stood from his seat, walking closer to the edge of the deck. He glared at the group, clothed in faded grey, greens, and blacks.

"You will not enter Gondor."

The Boson laughed, looking around the the other pirates. "Who are you to deny us passage?"

"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the boson's ear,' ordered Aragorn.

"Mind your aim,' Gimli said, looking up at the elf.

Legolas quickly fit an arrow to the string, taking aim carefully. Just as he went to fire, Gimli knocked the bottom of his bow, causing the arrow to spiral off course, thudding into the chest of the man standing to the right of the boson. The dwarf gasped, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Oh!' then he grew stern, the other men passing glances between each other. "That's it, we warned you! Prepare to be boarded!"

The mercenaries laughed. "Boarded? By you and whose army?"

"This army." stated Aragorn, and from behind him burst forth the army of the dead, sweeping over the waters like they were solid ground. Aragorn and the company rushed forward, boarding the ships and slaying those who were left alive, if there was any at all.

 **Standing** on the quarter deck, Araogrn surveyed the ship. Most of the ghost army had taken the steering, while the men had scavenged below for anything to eat. Their ship, the largest in the fleet of corsairs, sailed at the forefront of the group. Walking up beside him, Thennil knelt, her knee meeting the deck as the ship swayed. He turned, a puzzled look coming over his face.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Every King should have his own standard,' she said, opening the large piece of cloth to display the masterpiece within.

Aragorn took the cloth with shaking hands, his emotions like a rolling storm. His fingers traced each silver stitch, each gemstone sewing into the cloth, like bright stars blinking in the night sky. The crown that hung suspended above the tree. It was wrought of mithril and gold, and shone in the sunlight.

"I began this when you were but a child, running about in the gardens of Imladris,' she murmured, looking fondly over the standard. 'I had some inkling that perhaps you would be the one to restore the kingdom of Gondor, and become it's king.' she looked up from him, still kneeling. 'And I was right."

Tears sprang to Aragorn's eyes. 'You made this for me?"

"Thorin was kind enough to give me the finest mithril and gold thread that they had in Erebor, and the stones are from one of the necklaces that my mother gifted me before she sailed across the sea,' she explained, 'I've never been one for jewels, always preferring simpler things, so I used them as the stars."

"Words fail me,' he said, laying the standard over the railing, and taking her hand he drew her to her feet.

She smiled.

"You have no idea how important you are to me, and I have no idea how to explain it to you,' he whispered, drawing her close, till their noses were nearly touching.

She smiled against his mouth, brushing her nose against his. Grabbing her by the hips, he yanked her to him, crashing his lips against his in a greedy passion. Her hands left his chest, traveling up to curl themselves in his hair as she pulled him closer, smelling the sweat and dirt on his skin, feeling it beneath her fingertips. So oblivious to their surroundings that they didn't hear the footsteps approaching until an uncomfortable 'Ahem!' drew their attention.

Pulling apart, Thennil blushed as she looked into two identical faces. Elladan and Elrohir stood before them, both gagging, and pretending to vomit as they looked them.

"Please, Estel, that's our sister!" Elladan convulsed, clutching his throat.

"Yeah, that's disgusting,' chocked Elrohir, leaning over the side of the ship.

She rolled her eyes, "How do you think you two were created?"

Her brother's looked at each other, then back at her, then back at each other, their faces turned green. "That's disgusting."

She smirked, and leaned in for another kiss.

"Wait! You haven't-I mean-Ada is going to kill you-

"Shut up, Elladan, you've apparently been spending time with the rangers to much,' she said, feeling Aragorn smirk against her lips.

"Elladan,' Elrohir's voice pipped up, 'I think we'll be leaving now."

"What?" the other twin's voice yelped.

"Come on!" Elrohir growled, and she could hear her brother drag his twin down the stairs and across the deck.

Aragorn began to chuckle, fully breaking out into laughter when the twins were below deck. Drawing back from their embrace, she glared up at him reproachfully.

"What? They're going to have to get used to us kissing,' he laughed, nuzzling his nose into her hair as she leaned back against his chest, his hands on her hips.

"I think we could have broken them in slower."

"Better to do it fast, that way they have more time to get it over with before we marry,' he teased, tickling her sides.

She elbowed him in the gut, twisting out of his grasp laughing. "Who told you I was ticklish?"

"I-

"Don't answer that question,' she said ordered, holding up her finger.

He grinned, and opened his mouth to answer when a growling noise came from his stomach. She looked down at the offending organ, and then back up to his silver-blue eyes.

"Hungry?' she asked, crossing her arms.

"A little,' he replied.

She walked over to the stairs leading down to the main deck. "I'm sure they have some sort of food on this ship, we should make use of it."

He followed after her.

 **There** were many strange things in the corsairs hold. There were fruits ranging from star in shape to strange long gourde-like things, spices that many of them had never smell or tasted before, and even a few live goats that they assumed were for fresh meat on the trip from Umbar. They found as many things as were familiar, and a few that weren't, and Thennil, along with one or two of the rangers who were skilled at cooking, threw together into a quick meal. They were a few hours away from the fields before Minas Tirith, and with the ghost army steering the ships, they had a few minutes to spare to eat after their experiences.

They spent those few hours in each other's company, talking of their journey's and reminiscing of times long gone. In a small group off to the side, Aragorn, Halbarad, the twins Elladan and Elrohir, Legolas, Gimli, and Thennil sat discussing their course of action. Thennil suggested that they mount the standard upon the bowspring, so that when they came into the harbor at Harlond that they wouldn't be mistaken for enemies, while Elladan and Elrohir said it would become more of a surprise, and give them a better advantage if they chose to leap over the side with the standard raised above their heads, hailing the king. That among many other small details were argued, torn apart, and put back together until they had a decent plan.

Thennil moved away with her two brother's and they sat on one side of the deck. They slowly began to tap out a rhythm on the wood of the deck, Elrohir pulling a flute from his pocket and beginning to play a tune on it. The haunting music flowed over the men, soothing and sad all at the same time. The melody rose and fell, the strength of the song growing and shrinking. Thennil hummed along, words flowing through her mind as she tried to find some that would give meaning to the tune. Steadily words began to fit together in her mind and her soft voice leapt from her throat, mixing with the sound of the rushing river, her brother's flute, and the beat on the deck.

"Just wait, though wide he may roam

Always, a King comes home

He goes where no one has gone

But always a hero comes home

Signs of a savior

Like fire on the water

It's what we've prayed for

One of our own

Deep in the heart of darkness

Sparks a dream of light

Surrounded by hopelessness

He finds the will to fight

There's no surrender, always remember

It doesn't end here, we're not alone

Just wait, though wide he may roam

Always, a King comes home

He goes where no one has gone

But always a King comes home

And he will come back

On a crimson tide, dead or alive

And even though we know the bridge has burned

He will return, he will return

For Always, a King comes home."

As the last words of her song drifted through the air, in the distance the city of Minas Tirith appeared. In an instant the men jumped up from their seats, fixing this, adjusting that, making sure the ropes were secure. They checked their own weapons, tightened their armor, and murmuring to one another. Aragorn gave a few last minute instructions before joining them on the deck, leaving the ghosts to guide the ships down the river to the docks. Everyone ducked below the edge of the railing littered with shields, waiting in anticipation for the boats to come to a stop. As they neared the docks, they could hear the sounds of war ringing out from the field before the city, the should of the great Oliphants, the neighing of horses, and the shouts and screams of men and orcs.

Thennil felt the slowing of the ships first, and the jolting stop as they came to rest against one of the docks. She could smell the orcs before she could hear or seen them, and gagged at the stench. From among the growling and snarling horde came a gravely voice, sniveling at the ships.

"Late as usual, pirate scum!' it said, 'There's knife-work here needs doing!"

"Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!" another sniveling voice crowed.

It was then that they jumped over the side of the ships, Halbarad bearing the standard, raising it high above their heads as they yelled, charging the ranks of orcs. The great army of the dead sped on behind them, sweeping over the orcs and running through into Pelinnor field. There they came, Legolas and Gimli wielding his axe, Elladan and Elrohir with stars on their brow, the dour-handed Dunedain, Rangers of the North, and Thennil, brilliant white star shining amid the flames of her hair. These were the folk leading with great velour the people of Lebennin and Lamedon and the fiefs of the South. But before all these, with the shield maiden at his side, went Aragorn with the Flame of the West, Anduril like a new fire kindled, Narsil re-forged as deadly as of old; upon his brow was the Star of Elendil.


	59. Chapter 56

They fought hard against the hordes of Mordor and met Eomer in the midst of the battle. Clasping hands with him, they asked without words how the other had fared before turning and fighting together side by side. Their swords sang together, humming as one. Hard fighting and long labour they had still; for the Southrons were bold men and grim, and fierce in despair; and the Easterlings were strong and war-hardened and asked for no quarter. They had breached the city, climbing up it's streets and battling in it's alleys. And it was so, by this place and that, in barn and on bridge, upon hillock or mound, under wall or field, still they gathered and rallied and fought until the day wore away.

It was when the Sun finally went at last behind Mindolluin and the mountains were dyed as with blood; fire glowed in the River, and the grass of the Pelennor lay red in the nightfall. It was in that hour the great Battle of the field of Gondor was over; and not one living foe was left within the circuit of the Rammas. All were slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever came eastward to Morgul or Mordor; and the land of the Haradrim came only a tale from far off: a rumor of the wrath and terror of Gondor, but also of mercy, and peace.

Late into the night they wandered the fields together, finding their dead and wounded, and bringing them up and into the city. They spent the early hours of the morning piling up their enemy and burning their corpses, the ash blowing over the whole country in the breeze that blew in over from the sea. It was in the early rays of sunlight of the next day that the army of the Dead came and stood before Aragorn.

"Release us!" hissed the King of the Dead.

Gimli looked over the army, shaking his head. "Bad idea! Very handy in tight spots, these lads, despite the fact that they are dead."

"You gave us your word!"

Aragorn looked over the army, Eomer and Imrahil standing at a distance behind him. "Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur! I hold your oaths fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and be at peace."

The King of the Dead stood forward before his host, and broke his pear, casting it down at Aragorn's feet. He bowed low before turning away towards his Mountain. Slowly, the breeze from the sea grew, and the ghosts disappeared from before them, never to be seen in Middle Earth again. It was then that they were able to see their dead and wounded clearer than before, and the search for their people became in ernest. Over the fields groups walked, carrying more of their friends and comrades in arms towards the city. Imrahil looked among the fallen for his sons, his eye searching for dark hair amongst the red, blondes, and golds of the Rohirrim.

Thennil searched for her friends, Alebarad, Argoth, and Gael, and wept when she found Argoth's body. He had been so young even for the long life of his people. She held him to her chest, her tears falling hard as she crooned to him. From among the searchers appeared his two companions, and they both stood over him, tears falling down into their beards as they beheld the sight. It was then that she remembered the mission that she had charged them with.

"Eowyn!' she gasped, looking up into their eyes, then around them at the bodies of the dead. 'Where is she?"

"Nooooooooo!" a great cry rang across the field, and all turned. Thennil lay Argoth down upon the ground, knowing that he would be given a proper burial according to his people's customs, and ran towards the noise. There she found Eomer, kneeling on the ground and crying, the limp form of his sister in his arms. His cries could be heard, long and sorrowful as he clung to Eowyn. She knelt down beside him, and he glared up at her, accusingly.

"You did this!' he hissed.

"I did nothing, Eomer,' she stated, snatching one of Eowyn's wrists from his grasp and running her fingers along the inside of her forearm. 'This was her decision."

It took her a few more seconds before she felt the faint pulse beating under Eowyn's pale skin, and when she did she looked up into Eomer's eyes. "She lives, you fool!' turning, she called to Imrahil, 'Imrahil!"

The man of Dol Amroth rode over on his horse, a fresh one from the city it looked like, and dismounted. "What can I do for you my lady?"

"Lady Eowyn has been wounded, but mortal though it may be, there is still hope. You have the strongest, and fastest horse on this field,' she said standing. 'You will be able to get her to the healing halls before any of us."

"And I shall do so,' he said, taking the maiden into his arms, Eomer's blank face not even registering what was happing as shock took over. Thennil held Eowyn in her arms while Imrahil mounted his horse, whispering healing words over her to get her through to the healing halls. Lifting her up, she placed the woman in the arms of the Prince and watched as he galloped towards the city in haste.

 **Aragorn** and Eomer and Thennil rode back towards the Gate of the City, and they were now weary beyond joy or sorrow. Eomer was still in shock, his hands clenching the reigns of Firefoot tightly as they came up the path, covered in blood. These three were unscathed, for such was their fortune and the skill and might of their arms, and few indeed dared to abide them or look on their faces in the hour of their wrath. But alas, there were many others hurt or maimed or dead upon the field. The axes hewed furlong as he fought along and unhorsed; and both Duilin of Morthond and his brother were trampled to death when they assailed the mumakil, leading their bowmen close to shoot at the eyes of the masters. Neither Hirluin the fair would return to Pinnate Felin, nor Grimbold to Grimslade, nor Halbarad to the Northlands, nor Argoth the jolly, dour-handed Rangers. No few had fallen, renowned or nameless, captain or soldier; for it was a great battle and the full count of it no tale has told, only that it was many innocent lives that should have lived to become old and grey. So long afterward a maker in Rohan said in his song of the Mounds of Mundburg:

 _We heard the horns in the hills ringing,_

 _the swords shining in the South-kingdom._

 _Steeds went striding to the Stoningland_

 _as wind in the morning. War was kindled._

 _There Theoden fell, Thegnling mighty,_

 _to his golden halls and green pastures_

 _in the Northern fields never returning,_

 _high lord of the host. Harding and Guthlaf,_

 _Dunker and Deorwine, doughty Grimbold,_

 _Herefara and Herubrand, Horn and Fastred,_

 _fought and fell there in a far country:_

 _in the Mounds of Mundburg under mould they lie_

 _with their league-fellows, lords of Gondor._

 _Death in the morning and at day's ending_

 _lords took and lowly. Long now they sleep_

 _under grass in Gondor by the Great River._

 _Grey now as tears, gleaming silver,_

 _red then it rolled, roaring water:_

 _foam dyed with blood flamed at sunset;_

 _as beacons mountains burned at evening;_

 _red fell the dew in Rammas Echor._

 **A** mist was in Thenni's eyes of tears and weariness as she went back and forth from the fields to the city with the wounded. After so many hours, she no gave little head to the wreck and slaughter that lay about her, only seeking those that still drew breath. Fire and smoke and stench was in the air; for many engines had been burned or cast into the fire-pits, and many of the slain also, while here and there lay many carcases of the great Southern monsters, half-burned, or broken by stone-casts, or shot through the eye by the valiant archers of Morthond. A rain had begun to fall early in the day, washing away the filth that had accumulated in the city, and now it ceased for a time, the sun gleaming down from above; but the lower city was still wrapped in a smoldering reek of death.

She was going back out into the fading light when she heard a new voice calling, loud and shrill.

"Merry!"

"MERRY!"

Turning about, she led her horse over towards the voice, blinking away her weary tears. She cleared her eyes as they grew wide at the sight before her. Pippin stood in the middle of all the destruction, feet bare, garbed in Gondordian armor. His eyes were full of sadness, looking around him searchingly.

"Pippin." she gasped, rushing to him as her steed followed along behind her. She fell to her knees, scooping her friend up into her arms and holding him to her chest tightly.

"Thennil?' the hobbit asked, leaning back and looking up at her, then wrapping his arms tighter around her and shaking with silent sobs.

"Shhhh, shhh, I am here,' she whispered, holding the shaking hobbit to her breast.

"I did not see you among those who entered the city,' he whispered, finally pulling back. 'I thought that you might have fallen."

"I have not, but you are looking for Merry? Has he not entered the city?' she asked worriedly.

"Nay, I have not found him, and I have been searching for hours!"

"Then we shall look together,' she said, taking him by the hand and leading him through the field.

"I have already looked on this side, he was not hear,' stated the hobbit.

"You have probably missed him,' she said, looking over the bodies, and by those of the Southron monsters. 'He would have ridden with Eowyn into battle, I am sure."

"Eowyn?' asked Pippin, cocking an eyebrow. 'She was the one that Imrahil came galloping through the city streets with, wasn't she?"

"Yes. She was gravely wounded."

Dropping the reigns to Roheryn, she walked quicker through the field, Pippin searching along behind her. Suddenly, she heard him gasp, and turning she saw the hobbit running through the ruins of the battle towards a slumped figure. The hobbit dropped to his knees, pushing the great lump of an orc off his friend as he picked him up in his arms. Leaping over the dead, she followed him, and knelt beside him as he held his friend in his arms, sobbing.

"Merry!' he wept, and Thennil checked for a pulse on his small wrist, growing concerned at the cold she felt from his normally warm body. 'Merry, it's me, it's Pippin."

She ran her hand up and down the hobbits arm, feeling the icy coldness that grew colder and colder.

"I knew you'd find me,' the hobbits groggy voice chocked out finally, his eyes glazed over as he looked up at his friends. 'Are you going to leave me?"

"No, Merry,' she spoke, brushing her fingers through his hair like she had done at the beginning of her journey.

"We're going to look after you, Thennil and I,' stated Pippin.

Thennil draped her cloak over the shivering hobbit, whistling to Roheryn. First she lifted Pippin up onto the horse, seating him before where she would sit so that his heat would warm Merry even more as they rode through the winds. Then taking Merry's shivering form in her arms, she cradled him like a babe, and mounted Roheryn in one swift movement. Settling into the saddle, she took the reigns from Pippin, and kicked the horse into a fast trot, gentle to not jostle Merry more than necessary.

Merry lay in her arms, curling up close to her chest as they rode, becoming slowly more aware of his surroundings as they went, weaving their way through the ruins of battle. Pippin had taken off his own cloak and draped it over his friend for extra warmth, clinging to the saddle as they rode, the sun sinking behind the mountains. His hair grew tangled in the breeze as they rode, watching the lights slowly appear on every level of Minas Tirith.

"Where is the King?' Merry finally asked. 'And Eowyn?" Then he slumped again, leaning heavily against Thennil.

"They have gone up into the Citadel,' said Pippin. 'I think you must have been out for a very long time. We have been searching for you for hours, and I only just found your cloak a few hours before the sun started to sink in the sky."

"I could not find any wounds, Merry,' she told the hobbit. 'Tell me, do you hurt anywhere?"

"No,' said the hobbit blinking away sleep. 'Well, no, I don't think so. But I can't use my right arm, Thennil, not since I stabbed him. And my sword burned all away like a piece of wood."

Thennil's heart stuttered in her chest, and she knew instantly who he was speaking of.

"Are you going to bury me?' asked Merry.

"No, indeed!' cried Pippin, trying to sound cheerful, though his heart was wrung with fear. 'No, we are going to the House of Healing as fast as Nelly can get us there."

And so they climbed the road that led up into the city. Round and round they rode, following the twists and turns of the lane as it ran between the tall houses of the outer wall of the fourth circle, and they regained the street climbing up to the Citadel. It was not many minutes later after they had entered the fifth ring of the city that Gandalf came down the lane in search of them. He leaned over Merry in Thennil's arms, caressing his brow with a wrinkled hand; then urged them on faster.

"He should have been borne in honour into this city,' he said. 'He has well repaid my trust; for if Elrond had not yielded to me, neither of you would have set out; and then far more grievous would the evils of this day have been.' He sighed, looking over Thennil's pale form. 'And yet here is another charge on my hands, while all the time the battle hangs in the balance."

 **So** at last Meriadoc was laid in a bed in the Houses of Healing; and there he was tended to by Thennil herself along with others. For though all lore was in these latter days fallen from its fullness of old, the leechcraft of Gondor was still wise, and skilled in the healing of wound and hurt, and all such sickness as east of the Sea mortal men were subject to. Save old age only. For that they had found no cure; and indeed the span of their lives now had waned to little more than that of other men, save those who were of the Steward's and Prince Imrahil's bloodlines. But now their art and knowledge were baffled; for there were many sick of a malady that would not be healed; and they called it the Black Shadow, for it came from the Nazgul. And those who were stricken with it fell slowly into an ever deeper dream, and then passed to silence and a deadly cold, and so died. And it seemed to the tenders of the sick that on the halfling and on the Lady of Rohan this malady lay heavily. Thennil had worked long and hard into the night trying to save Merry with the knowledge she had, and her brother's had joined her in the halls to help with the sick, but nothing they tried worked. She knew that with her power she would be able to help counteract the darkness, which she had seen before when Frodo had been stabbed with a morgul blade, but when she tried, no power flowed through her fingertips. Again and again she tried, but she only grew more weary.

Deciding that her gift of healing out not come through her power, she turned to things she knew would help. Yarrow, lavender and shepherds purse cleaning wounds and helping to stop the blood flow. She bathed those with fevers in lavender and epsom salts, washing their faces and cuts while she was at it. To those in immense pain she boiled willow bark and helped the men drink as much as they could down. Time passed while she was in the halls, but to those working it went by to quickly, many of their charges slipping away. They worked without ceasing, taking turns to rest and recuperate ever few hours. Though she was exhausted from the battle, Thennil carried on, taking only a few moments now and again to rest or eat something. The vast knowledge of herbs that she had was shared among the other healers, and used in addition to the knowledge that they already had.

Eomer sat by his sister's side, holding her freezing hands in his own, and watching as the healers moved around the room. Though he was concerned for his sister, hearing her murmuring in her dreams, and listening intently to her words, his eyes followed a dark hair woman around the long hall, watching her heal those around her.

Slowly the morning wore away, and they healers listened to their mutterings in hopes that perhaps they would learn something that would help them to understand their hurts. But soon they began to fall down into the darkness, and as the sun turned west a grey shadow crept over their faces. In portion of the hall, seperated from the others lay Faramir, burning with fever.

Gandalf went from on to the other full of care, and he was told all that the watchers could hear. And so the day passed, long and dark for those who waited for good news. Still Gandalf waited and watched and did not go forth from the Houses; till at last the red sunset filled all the sky, and the light through the windows fell on the grey faces of the sick. Then it seemed to those who stood by that in the glow the faces flushed softly as with health returning, but it was only a mockery of hope.

Then, the dark hair woman who served in the house with the others leaned over the fair face of Faramir, and wept, for all the people loved him Her tears seemed especially sad to those who saw her. And she said: 'Alas! if he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in old lore: _The hands of the king are the hands of a healer._ And so the rightful king could ever be known."

And Gandalf, who stood by next to Thennil who worked hard to save the dying men around them, said: 'Men may long remember your words, Daughter! For there is hope in them. Maybe a king has indeed returned to Gondor; or have you not heard the strange tidings that have come to the City this day?'

"I have been to busy with bringing in the wounded, today and yesterday during the battle. Defending my kin as they carted our soldiers up the roads to these halls,' she answered, her young face grimacing. 'All I hoped was that those murdering devils did not come to this House and trouble the sick. I have taken up the sword on the lower levels when our forces grew thin, hoping to protect our wounded."

Then Gandalf left in a flurry of white, running in haste. Already the fire in the sky was burning out, and the smoldering hills were fading. Through the city he ran, and upon finding Aragorn among the men burying the dead, pulled him from their ranks and drug him up the roads of the city to the House's of healing. He spoke of the situation to Aragorn, telling him of the strange sickness that plagued the wounded, and they hastened on.

Imrahil had come to the Houses of healing, inquiring after the men within, and upon seeing Gandalf said. "So victory is shorn of gladness, and it is bitter bought, if both Gondor and Rohan are in one day bereft of their lords. Homer rules the Rohirrim. Who shall rule the City meanwhile? Shall we not now send for the Lord Aragorn?"

It was then that Aragorn stepped into the room, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lorien above his mail, and bearing no other token than the green stone of Galadriel. 'I have come because Gandalf Begs me to do so,' he said. 'But for the present I am but the Captain of the Dunedain of Arnor; and the Lord of Dol Amroth shall rule the City until Faramir awakes. But it is my counsel that Gandalf should rule us all in the days that follow and in our dealings with the Enemy.' And they agreed upon that.

Then Gandalf looked around the hall, and finding Thennil quickly among all the black and brown hair healers rushing in and out between the Houses.. Catching his eye, she quickly moved among them and joined their circle. "Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. For it is only the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spake one of the young daughters, wise-woman of Gondor: _The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.'_

As they entered the building further, two soldiers met them: one tall, but the other scarce the height of a boy; and when he saw them he cried aloud in surprise and joy.

"Strider! How splendid! Do you know, I guessed it was you in the black ships. But they were all shouting _corsairs_ and wouldn't listen to me. How did you do it?"

Aragorn laughed, and took the hobbit by the hand. "Well met indeed, my dear little friend!' he said, smiling down at Pippin. 'But there is not time yet for travelers' tales."

But behind him, in a low whisper Imrahil spoke to Gandalf and Thennil: 'It is thus that we speak to our kings? Yet maybe he will wear his crown in some other name!"

Thennil smiled, thinking of the name that is would be in the old tongue. Upon hearing Imrahil's words, Aragorn turned and said: 'Verily, for in the high tongue of old I am _Elessar_ , the Elfstone, and _Envinyatar,_ the Renewer': and he lifted up his breast the green stone that lay there. 'But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and _Telcontar_ I will be and all the heirs of my body." He looked over at Thennil pointedly, and she blushed deeply.

Gandalf had already told Aragorn of all that he knew of the condition of the sick, but beckoned Thennil forward to fill in what he did not. "I have stood by them through the night and day, and at first they spoke much in their dreaming, before they sank into the deadly darkness. Also it is given to me to see many things far off."

Hearing this, Aragorn went first to Faramir, and then to the Lady Eowyn, and last to Merry. When he had looked at the many faces of the sick and seen their hurts and how they were being taken care of he sighed. 'Here I must put forth all such power and skill as is given to me,' he said. 'Would that Elrond were here, for he is the eldest of all our race, and has the greater power.' He looked up at Thennil, smiling grimly. 'But I have the next best thing, his daughter who has spent many years under his tutelage."

"I wish I had spent more time there,' she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. 'And I have been using the knowledge that I learned there, combined with healing spells that I know, but for many it does not seem to be enough."

Eomer looked up from where he sat beside his sister, and seeing that both were sorrowful and weary said: 'First you must rest, surely, and at least eat a little?"

"Nay,' replied Aragorn, taking her hand in his own, drawing strength from her. 'For these three, and most soon for Faramir, time is running out. All speed is needed."

Then he turned and called to one of the old women, Ioreth was her name, and said: 'You have store in this House of the herbs of healing?"

"Yes, lord,' she answered; 'but not enough, I reckon, for all that will need them. Even now we are stretching what we have, and I am not sure where we shall find more; for all things are amiss in these dreadful days, what with fires and burnings, and the lads that run errands so few, and all the roads blocked. Why, it is days out of counts since ever a carrier came in from Lossarnach to the market! But we do our best in this House with what we have, as I am sure your lordship will know."

"I will judge that when I see,' said Aragorn, 'One thing also is short, time for speech. Have you _athelas?_ "

The woman looked over the strange lord curiously, 'I do not know, nor am I sure, lord. At least not by that name. I will go and ask of the herb-master; he knows all the old names."

"It is also called _kingsfoil,_ Ioreth,' spoke Thennil in her soft voice, 'perhaps you know it by that name, for so the country-folk call it in these latter days."

Ioreth's face lit up in recognition, 'Oh that! Well, if your lordship had named it at first I could have told you. No, we have none of it, I am sure. Why, I have never heard that it had any great virtue; and indeed I have often said to my sisters when we came upon it growing in the woods: 'kingsfoil', I said, 'tis a strange name, and I wonder why 'tis called so; for if I were a king, I would have plants more bright in my garden'. Still it smells sweet when bruised, does it not? If sweet is the right word: wholesome, maybe, is nearer."

None of them had noticed, but at the beginning of the conversation, the dark hair woman who had spoken of the kings of Gondor to Gandalf, stopped what she was doing, and turning had listened in to their conversation. Hearing the name _athelas_ then _kingsfoil,_ she had left her duty, rolling up bandages, and run out of the house. Up the long streets she ran, weaving in and out of the fallen stones that had made up the walls, and disappeared through a gate into an immense garden. Finding what she was looking for, she rushed back down the stairs, and burst through the doors of the healing ward just as Gandalf finished speaking.

The herb-master entered then, and spoke. "Your lordship asked for _kings foil_ , as the rustics name it, or _athelas_ in the noble tongue, or to those who know somewhat of the Valinorean..."

"I do so,' said Aragorn in frustration, 'and I care not whether you say now _asa aranion_ or _kingsfoil,_ so long as you have some!"

Making a move towards the group, she went to pull on the sleeve of the lord, but one of the other healers pulled her back. She moved her hands in rapid motions, using signs to explain what she was doing. The woman, Idril, shook her head sadly, and pushed her back towards the pile of strips waiting to be rolled. Stomping her food, the girl pointed to the lord, then to the large clump of leaves and flowers in her basket.

"Your pardon lord!' cried the man, lifting his long nose into the air. 'I see you are a lore-master, not merely a captain of war. But alas! sir, we do not keep this thing in the Houses of Healing, where only the gravely hurt or sick are tended."

"What is it, child?' asked the woman in confusion, still trying to pull the girl back to the fabric.

"For it has no virtue that we know of, save perhaps to sweeten a fouled air, or to drive away some passing heaviness. Unless, of course, you give heed to rhymes of old days, which old women still repeat to the young without understanding.

 _When the black breath blows_

 _and death's shadow grows_

 _and all lights pass,_

 _come athelas! come athelas!_

 _Life to the dying_

 _In the king's hand lying!_

"It is but a doggrel, I fear, garbled in the memory of old wives. Its meaning I leave to your judgement, if indeed it has any. But old folk still use an infusion of the herb for headaches."

"Then in the name of the king, go and find some old man of less lore and more wisdom who keeps some in his house!" cried Gandalf in exasperation, ready to fling the old hoot out the door.

The girl growled, though there was no sound, and ripped herself away from the woman, stumbling into the circle where the dark, yet kind looking lord sat with his friends glaring at the herb-master. Nearly tripping over her long legs, she practically dumped the whole basket into the man's lap. Everyone in the group froze, and looked at her. She blushed furiously, scrambling to her feet as she began motioning to the plant, then to the pale woman laying upon the pallet, then to fair Faramir on his cot, head beaded with sweat.

Ioreth gasped in horror, and the herb-master rubbed between his eyes while the older woman pulled the girl away, 'My Lady, this is no time to be throwing yourself at the feet of the lord!"

Struggling in Ioreth's grasp, the girl glared at her elder, and made motions with her hands, far to fast for any of them to comprehend in her haste. Aragorn looked down to the emptied basket on his lap and the floor, and laughed.

"Well, Ioreth, it seems this young woman is even faster than your tongue, and has gotten me more kingsfoil than I thought the city held."

The young woman nodded, and made rushed motions with her hands, mimicking a boiling pot. Aragorn shook his head, 'You know of the healing properties of kingsfoil?"

She nodded, and pointed to her throat, then to her mouth, miming speaking.

"But you could not tell anyone?" he asked.

She nodded vigorously.

Ioreth pulled on the girl again, 'Come, dear-

"Nay, let her help, I need all the hands I can get,' said Aragorn, smiling at the young woman.

While Ioreth was sent to retrieve hot water, Aragorn went and knelt at Faramir's bedside. Taking Faramir's hand in his, he laid the other hand upon the sick man's brow. The young woman watched him closely, her eyes like a hawk as he moved his hands over the man's face. It was drenched with sweat; but Faramir did not move or make any sign, and seemed to hardly breathe. The girl made more motions with her hand, pointing to the pale lady and the small form of Merry laying on his pallet, and Aragorn nodded his head.

"He is nearly spent,' the ranger turned to Gandalf. 'But this comes not from the wound. See! that is healing.' he pointed to the bandage on the man's chest. 'Had he been smitten by some dart from the Nazgul, as you thought, he would have died that night. This hurt was given by some Southron arrow, I would guess. Who drew it forth? Was it kept?"

From behind him stepped Imrahil, looking at the dark haired woman sitting beside the Steward, then back to Aragorn, 'I drew it forth, and staunched the wound. But I did not keep the arrow, for we had much to do. It was, as I remember, just such a dart as the Southrons use, and I have seen them many times. Yet I believed that it came from the Shadows above, for else his fever and sickness were not to be understood; since the wound was not deep or vital. How then do you read the matter?"

"Weariness, grief for his father's mood, a wound, and over all the Black Breath,' spoke Aragorn. 'He is a man of staunch will, for already he had come close under the Shadow before ever he rode to battle on the out-walls. The dark must have slowly crept up on him, even as he fought and strove to hold his outpost.' Aragorn slammed his fist down on his thigh. 'I wish that I would have been called sooner, and perhaps it would not have gotten this far!"

Thennil rubbed soothing circles on his shoulders with her thumbs, 'Hush, _estel,_ it could not be helped."

He shook his head, turning back to the limp form of Faramir on the bed, and the girl who sat next to him vigilantly.

 **Having a much better week this week. My sister is out of the hospital! Yes!**


	60. Chapter 57

**So...We have our dog back! We were able to get him back from the humane society(after a ton of questions, etc.) He's fine, but likes to eat hair, human hair. All that stuff in his stomach was my sister's and I's hair. It was the size of a fist... Yeah, gross. We just have to keep him out of the garbage and make sure that we dust and vacuum every day throughly.**

 **Now, on to what you were really looking forward to:**

Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand to his brow while Thennil whispered words of ancient Queyna under her breath, pushing some of her ability to see beyond the outward appearance of a person into his senses. Those that watched felt that there was some great struggle going on. For Thennil's face grew paler than the moon, to the point that her brother's felt the need to step closer to her while Aragon's face grew grey with weariness; and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each time more faintly to their hearing, as if Aragorn himself was removed from them, and walked afar in some dark vale, calling for one that was lost.

The young woman watched all that went one with large eyes and open ears, listening to everything that the two healers before her said and did. She watched as Aragorn took the leaves from the plant, laying them in his hands and breathing softly on them, then crushing them in his palm. Straightaway a living freshness filled the room, as if the air itself awoke and tingled, and she felt a strangeness in her being, sparkling with joy. And then he cast the leaves into the bowls of steaming water that were brought to him, and at once all their hearts were lightened. For the fragrance that came to each was like a memory of dewy mornings of unshadowed sun in some land of which the fair world in spring is itself but a fleeting memory. She watched as the lord before her stood up as one refreshed, and his eyes smiled as he held a bowl before Faramir's dreaming face.

From behind her she could hear the faint whispers of Ioreth to the other women. "Well now! Who would have believed it? The weed is better than I thought. It reminds me of the roses of Imloth Melui when I was a lass, and no king could as for better."

Watching the still form before her, the lass smiled as he suddenly stirred, opening his eyes, and looking up at Aragorn who bent over him; and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly, in a voice that the young woman had not heard since he had gone to battle. "My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king' he caught glimpse of Thennil behind Aragorn, 'and Queen command?"

"Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!' said Aragorn. 'You are weary. Rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return."

"I will, lord,' said Faramir. 'For who would lie idle when the king has returned?"

Then he turned to the woman sitting beside him, and a joyful light grew in his eyes and on his face, as he took her hand. "I knew that you would stay by my side until I awoke, little fish."

She smiled, rolling her eyes, and leaned forward to place a kiss upon his forehead.

"Farewell then for a while,' said Aragorn, squeezing Faramir's hand in his own. 'I must go to the other's who are in need of my care,' he looked over at the dark haired lady, 'Would you accompany me?"

She nodded, following after him as he left the chambers with Gandalf and Imrahil following along behind. As she followed, pulling the curtain around his bed, she heard Ioreth exclaim:

"King! Did you hear that?"

She smiled in wonder, _What did I say? The hands of a healer, I said._

And soon the word had gone out from the House that the King was indeed come among them, and after the war he brought healing; and the news ran through the whole City. But in one heart there was greater joy than all the other's, and hope.

When they had come to Eowyn, Thennil looked over her friend, a great sorrow in her heart. "Here there is grievous hurt and a heavy blow."

Aragorn looked over Eowyn's arm, holding it in his hands as he felt for any more broken bones. 'The arm that was broken has been tended to with due skill,' here he looked up at Thennil, who nodded her head. 'It will mend in time, though I think faster since it has been given a boost, if she has the strength to live. It is the shield-arm that is maimed; but the chief of evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken."

Thennil bowed over her friend, her skilled fingers shaking as she lifted the limp arm into her hand in concern. Running her fingers over the skin, she could feel the deadness of the Black Breath seeping into the maid's veins. She closed her eyes, letting her fea take her away into the world of healing beyond the stars. There she could see the damage more clearly, and the decimation that is had already done on her body. She recognized the workings of a great evil, having seen in within her own body long ago. Withdrawing, she shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Alas! She was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them.' she shuddered, reaching one hand up to touch the scar that had seeped through her facade, the nasty cracks and pale skin looking ugly against her fine facial features. 'Few have survived such an encounter. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens."

"I don't know how to speak to her,' whispered Aragorn sorrowfully. 'When I first saw her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet I knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, too to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Eomer?"

Eomer looked up at Aragorn, his features stricken as he continued to hold his sister's limp hand in his own warm one. The grief in his eyes knew no bounds, and his heart was troubled. "I marvel that you should ask me, lord,' he answered. 'For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Eowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king's bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But this could not have brought her to this."

Thennil shook her head at Eomer, amazed by his naïvety. "My friend,' she said, 'you had your horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but sh, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least to match yours, perhaps even surpass it. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watched him falling into a mean dishonored dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on."

"Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Theoden's ears? Or your's? _Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs?_ You were there when Saruman spoke those words, and in turn he taught Wormtongue. I doubt that Wormtongue spoke them as blatant as that, but wrapped their meaning in much more cunning terms. If your sister's love for you, and her will still bent to her duties, had not restrained her lips, you might have heard words like that escape them. I do not know what she spoke to herself in the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when her life seemed to shrink in around her, and the walls of her bower closing in, a hutch to cage some wild thing in?'

'She longed to have the freedom that you had, but it was kept from her. What bird, when given the chance to fly out through an open door, does not take that chance, even if it means they risk their necks in the endeavor?"

Eomer was silent then, and his eyes did not stay from his sister, pondering anew all the days of their past life together. She could see the cracks in his grim facade grow larger, could see the light dawning in his eyes as he realized how little his sister was able to be herself, to stretch her wings. In contradiction to her sharp words, Aragorn spoke. "I saw also what you saw, Eomer. Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man's heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned.' He took Thennil's hand, squeezing it. 'Sorrow and pity have followed me ever since I left her desperate in Dunharrow and rode through the Path's of the Dead; and no fear upon the way was so present as the fear for what might befall her. And yet, Eomer, her love for you is more true than it is for me; for you she loves and knows; but in me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan."

Eomer shook his head. "She was always asking for books about distant places, or would sit before the traveling minstrels when they would come into Edoras, eager for anything about the world outside our hills and fields. If only I had paid more attention, had given it more thought I might have seen it! I could have prevented this!"

"Nay, Eomer!' Thennil said, kneeling before him as he despaired. 'Do not dwell on the past, for it will only drag you down. Look to the future, which is brighter than it was yesterday. There is hope!"

Aragorn nodded, 'I have, maybe, the power to heal her body, and to recall her from the dark valley. But to what she will awake: hope, or forgetfulness, or despair, I do not know. And if to despair, then she will die, unless other healing comes which I cannot bring. Alas! for her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown."

Then Aragorn motioned for the hot water, and taking it from the dark haired maiden who watched the going ons with interest, crushed more kingsfoil into it. The sent grew stronger in the room, and once again those feeling lost felt renewed again, and strong. He took the water and bathed her arm in it, then rested it on her forehead, the water seeping into her dry skin like rain upon a desert. Her face was white as a lily, cold as frost, and as hard as graven stone, but then he bent forward and kissed her on the brow, and called to her softly, saying:

"Eowyn Eomund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away!"

Thennil continued to bathe her brow with the warm water, then her arm. She did not stir, but now she began to breathe deeply, so that her breast rose and fell beneath her mail. Once more Aragorn bruised two leaves of _athelas_ and cast them into steaming water; and he soaked her brow with it, and her right arm lying cold and nerveless on the bed. It was then, and no one knew if it was indeed because Aragorn possessed some forgotten power of Westernnese, or if it was Elf-magic, or whether it was but his words of the Lady Eowyn that wrought on them, as the sweet influence of the herb stole about the chamber it seemed to those who stood by that a brisk, yet gentle wind blew through the window, and it bore no scent, no ash from the battlefield, but was an air wholly fresh and clean and young, as if it had not been breathed in by any living thing before and came anew from the snowy mountains high beneath a dome of stars, or from the sea shores of silver far away.

"Awake, Eowyn, Lady of Rohan!' he said again, and taking her right hand in his felt the warmth of life returning to it. 'Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!"

Again she did not stir, only breathed deep. Thennil stroked her friends face, the pain in her chest growing as she was reminded again of the love this woman had carried for Aragorn, and knowing that it could never be returned. _"Awake, my friend, and let your heart be renewed! Love is not dead, and hope has sprung anew! Let your heart not be troubled! There are still yet great things for you to accomplish in this world! Come back!"_

"Call her, Eomer." She said, watching Aragorn leave the chamber out of the corner of her eye.

"Eowyn, Eowyn!' cried the man amid his tears. In stuttering movements, her eyes opened, and she took in her surroundings, and foremost in her vision was her brother, leaning over her weeping.

"Eomer?" she asked in confusion, blinking rapidly. "Eomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain! Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?"

Tears cascading down his bearded face, Eomer leaned over his sister, drawing her into his arms. "Not long, little sister, but think no more on it!"

 **Thennil** and the dark haired maiden slowly edged away from the duo, leaving them to convene together and grieve alone. They soon joined Aragorn beside Merry, who lay upon the cot weak and weary, looking far older than he had when they had first set out, and it grieved her. Together, with some advice from Thennil on the matter, they had drawn the hobbit back into the land of the living.

Out of nowhere Pippin had popped into the room, and rushed to his friends side, looking him over with great concern. Aragorn shook his head at the hobbit, and laying a hand on Merry's brow, whispered many words in Sindarin. Thennil ran her hands through the halflings brown curls, playing with them gently as he breathed in and out deeply. Then he awoke.

"I'm hungry. What is the time?"

The group chuckled, watching Pippin hop up next to his friend on the cot. "Past supper-time now, though I daresay I could bring you something, if they will let me."

The dark haired maiden shook her head in wonder, having never seen people so small in her life. She made motions to Gandalf, who had joined them in the room, and he smiled, then laughed as she made signals with her hands.

"They will indeed,' he said, laughing at her vigorous movements. 'And anything else that this Rider of Rohan may desire, if it can be found in Minas Tirith, where his name is in honor."

The young girl laughed, her sides aching as small puffs of air escaped her mouth.

"Good!' said the hobbit, twisting in his cot to look around. "Then I would like supper first, and after that a pipe.' At this his face clouded. "No, not a pipe. I don't think I'll ever smoke again."

"Why not?' Thennil asked, helping him sit up in the bed.

"Well,' answered the hobbit, a mournful sound coming into his always cheery voice. 'He is dead. It has brought it back to me. He said he was sorry he had never had the chance to talk her-lore with me. Almost the last thing he ever said. I shan't ever be able to smoke again without thinking of him, and that day, Pippin, when he rode up to Isengard and was so polite, asking questions-

"Smoke then, and think of him!' said Aragorn. 'For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning. Though your service to him was brief, it should be a memory glad and honorable to the end of your days."

Merry smiled then, and flexed his fingers. "Well then,' he muttered, 'If Strider will provide what is needed, I will smoke and think. Though I don't have any ol' Toby to smoke,' he smirked, looking at Pippin. 'You didn't happen to smoke all of it, now did you?"

Pippin blushed, 'Smoked it all up right before the battle."

"Oh well,' said Merry, stopping mid-sentence as he looked around the circle, coming to the dark haired lady who stood conversing with Gandalf in quick hand motions. 'Who's that?"

The three of them blinked, and turned to look at the girl. The young woman, feeling their eyes upon her, turned from Gandalf, and blushed prettily. The wizard smiled down at her, and threw an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, quite like a grandfather.

"She says her name is Lotty, or that's what I can get from her signs,' said Gandalf. 'And she says she know where to get you dinner and a good pipe, Master Merry."

Merry's face lit up, and he would have jumped up to hug the girl if Thennil had not placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"She also says that it would be her pleasure to-' here Gandalf stopped, and nodded for the maid to sign again, his eyebrows crinkled. 'To find rooms for the lord Aragorn and his friends that are not among the healing halls, and who's conditions are not detrimental."

Aragorn smiled, bowing before the girl. 'We would all greatly appreciate it."

Lotty nodded, and turned to Gandalf, making motions with her hands in rapid succession. He held up his hands, 'Slow down, my dear, I'm not as quick as I used to be."

She shook her finger at him, and slowed down her motions, greatly exaggerating the movements for him while raising a brow.

"Oh, enough, lass,' huffed the wizard, 'Cut an old man some slack, I can go a little faster than that."

She grinned, nodded her head to the group, and disappeared down the long twisting hallway her long brown braid swinging as she went.

Turning back to the group, Pippin cocked his head. "I'm sure that I've seen her somewhere before."

Gandalf's eyes twinkled with humor. "I'm sure you have, my dear hobbit."

Merry began to look about him, slumping, "I had a small pinch left over from the pack that Gimli gave me before you all disappeared before the battle, but I'm not sure what came of it, probably lost it in the ride here, or somewhere in the battle."

"Master Meriadoc,' said Aragorn, laughing, 'if you think that I have passed through the mountains and the realm of Gondor with fire and sword to bring herbs to a careless soldier who throws away his gear, you are mistaken. If your pack has not been found, then you must send for the herb-master of this House. And he will tell you that he did not know that the herb you desired had any virtues, but that it is called _westmansweed_ by the vulgar, and galenas by the noble, and other names in other tongues more learned, and after adding a few half-forgotten rhymes that he does not understand, he will regretfully inform you that there is none in the House, and he will leave you to reflect on the history of tongues."

They all laughed, Merry with a painful look on his face, and the other's with tears rolling down their faces.

"And now so must we,' said Thennil, taking Aragorn's elbow. 'He has not slept in any form of bed since we rode from Dunharrow, nor eaten since before the sun rose this morning."

Merry gasped, and seized them by the hands and kissed them. 'I am frightfully sorry! Go at once! Ever since that night at Bree we have been a nuisance to you, Aragorn, and when Pippin and I stole from the kitchen's in Imladris, Netty. But it is the way of my people to use light words at such times and less than they mean. We fear to say too much. It robs us of the right words when a jest is out of place."

"Nonsense,' muttered Thennil, rolling her eyes as Aragorn replied. "I know that well, or I would not deal with you in the same way. May the Shire live for ever unwithered!" And so kissing Merry on the forehead, they went out, and Gandalf with him.

They quickly went to the Warden of the Houses, and counseled him in regards to the care of Faramir and Eowyn should they remain there and still be tended with care for many days.

"The Lady Eoywn,' Thennil told the warden, 'will want to rise from her bed soon and depart; but she should not be permitted to do so, if you can in any way restrain her, until at least ten days be passed." She paused, thinking back to the dark haired woman, Lotty, who had been so gracious and attentive while they had worked. "Send Lotty to her room to help her dress and to keep her company, if you can. She will help with the Lady's boredom."

"And as for Faramir,' said Gandalf, 'he must soon learn of his Father's death. But the full tale of the madness of Denethor should not be told to him, until he is quite healed and has duties to do. See to it that no one who was present speak of these things to him yet, especially the _perian_!"

"And the other _perian,_ Meriadoc, who is under my care, what of him?' asked the Warden.

"He should be able to rise and move about for a short while tomorrow,' said Aragorn. 'Let him do so, if he wishes. He may walk a short distance, perhaps to visit the Lady Eowyn, and send Lotty to him to keep him occupied, she perked his interest."

The Warden looked towards Merry's room in wonder, 'They are a remarkable race,' he said, nodding his head. 'Very tough in the fibre, I deem."

 **They** did not get to rest that night, as the noise the wounded came from the doors of the Healing Halls. They had eaten a simple meal, brought to them by Lotty, and rested a small while before the men of the city had come with their woes and prayers for them to heal their kinsmen or friends. Elladan and Elrohir joined them as they toiled through the night, fighting against infection whither it be from sword or from a greater evil. Far into the night they worked, washing bodies, bandaging wounds, chanting healing spells, and singing to the dying. And the word went out through the City: 'The King is come again indeed.' And the people named him Elfstone, because of the green stone that he wore, and so the name which it was foretold at his birth that he should bear was chosen for him by his own people.

Working alongside them, the people were in awe of Thennil, with her strange bright red hair, like flames, and eyes blue like an ocean sky. Many had spotted her in the battle on the fields, her hair a beacon amid the dark and dust. They had given her a name of her own, _Collgailnaur,_ The Bright Golden Flame. Many of the children had climbed up on boxes and crates to peer over the ledges of the windows to watch them as they worked, fascinated by her red hair, which was an oddity compared to the normal browns and blacks that they were used to. Many of the women sighed over her hair, touching their own braids or buns with jealousy.

When Aragorn grew weary of his labour, Thennil left her two brother's and handed him a dark cloak, and helped him slip out of the City, finding his tent just before dawn, and there they both collapsed in his small cot, their eyes slipping shut before they could say a word. And in the morning the banner of Dol Amroth, a white ship like a swan upon blue water, floated from the Tower, and men looked up and wondered if the coming of the King had been but a dream.

 **It** was late the next day that the two woke, and not at all how they wanted to. Both had been sleeping deeply, tangled together into one mass, their hair meshing into a mix of red and brown as Aragorn's soft snores echoed against the tent walls. The blankets were drawn up nearly above their eyes, and their soft breathing was barely to be heard. It was then that their beauty sleep was rudely interrupted. One moment they were in the pit of slumber, the next they were more rudely awake than they had been while walking through the Path's of the Dead.

Fridged water rushed down in rivets over their clothes and blankets as they both shot straight up in the cot, arms flailing. They balanced off one another until Thennil moved one of her legs, and sent them toppling to the hard ground below. Groaning, they struggled with one another and the blankets twisted around them as four voices laughed loudly. Finally detangling themselves, they glared up at their interrogators.

Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, and Gimli stood at the edge of their tent, two huge buckets gripped betwixt them. They grinned widely, before the twins looked sternly at Aragorn.

"I didn't know that you had been married,' they said, looking at the disheveled mess that was their sister's hair, and the lack of a tunic on Aragorn's shoulders.

She glared at them, hands going to her hips. "We're not-

"Yet." broke in Aragorn.

"But you don't see me making a problem, or dousing people with water, when you get all buddy-buddy with the other lady scouts when you're out on patrol."

The twin's shrugged, 'So, it's your honor we're protecting."

She rolled her eyes, 'Yep, where were you a few hundred years ago when that snooty lord from the grey havens tried to worm his way into my room?"

Aragorn turned to her, eyes widening. The twins gaped, their eyes as larges as saucers, and they slowly began to edge away from her as she took a step closer. "Well, we-you see-

"Or when Erestor thought it would be a good idea to hook me up with one of the smiths?"

"Umm, ahhh-

"Yeah, not happening." She said, advancing.

"We'll just be going now,' muttered Elrohir, snagging his twins' arm and dragging him away as fast as he could run. Legolas and Gimli merely looked on in amusement, laughing when she pushed both her brother's into a large pile of dung left over from the Oliphants. They peeled themselves out of the mess with a slurping noise, grimacing as she looked on from behind Aragorn, smirking.

He raised his hands, 'I am nor was I apart of this."

"Whatever,' she chuckled, peeking over his shoulder playfully at her brother's, eyebrow cocked.

 **As** the sun rose in the sky, the two of them sat before the city outside a tent that had been set up for them. Thennil leaned against Aragon's shoulder as he puffed on his pipe, smirking when she gave him a disapproving look. They continued on in compatible silence, watching the clouds in the sky, their eyes drifting over to the south, in which direction Mordor lay. It was the city that drew their eyes the most often, the great white walls and levels awe inspiring.

"Did you ever think I would get here?' he asked uncertainly when she shifted on his shoulder.

She looked up at him out of the corner of his eye. "I knew that eventually you might have come, but I was not entirely sure how. You were quite the wanderer for a while."

He nodded, blowing a smoke ring, watching it float willy nilly up into the sky. "I'm having a hard time believing that I'm here. That we've won this battle. That I've been inside the White City."

"And you will walk it's streets someday soon, a proud king,' she said clasping on of his large hands between her two smaller ones.

He smiled, then frowned. "Do you think they'll like me?"

She rolled her eyes, 'If you have to ask that question then you are more childish than I had first thought.' he cringed. 'They'll love you, Aragorn. They've already given you a name, in a sense that's acceptance."

"What about the nobles...'

"Poo on the nobles,' she groaned, rubbing her forehead. 'They can go burn their gowns for all I care, the people love you, the common folk, and that is all that matters."

He shrugged.

"You overthink things to much,' she said, flicking the side of his head.

He leaned back out of her reach, giving her the lifted eyebrow. "Like you don't?"

"Oh, I do, but that's because I have so many more years of experience that can be applied to the situation,' she stated straight faced.

He looked her over, his eyes twinkling merrily. They both burst out laughing.

 **Aragorn** stood just outside the entrance of Eowyn's room in the healing halls, listening. On the other side of the door he could hear two voices, both of which he was able to identify as Merry and Eowyn, but neither seemed to be talking to the other, and his brow wrinkled. Back and forth they went, their sentences choppy and broken.

"So you like-

"What do you do?

"Healer? I thought you said you worked with the rangers?"

"But how do you-

"What about the markets?"

Hearing footsteps, Aragorn looked for a place to hide, but there wasn't one. Hurrying down the hall came Sissel, one of the other healers in the halls, her greying hair piled up in braids atop her head. She smiled at him, and bowed, before noticing how uncomfortable he was. She paused, and hearing the soft, excited voices coming from within the room, her own brow wrinkled. Resting the basket of laundry on her hip, she leaned in, listening herself, then her smile widened, as if she heard something that he did not.

"Aww, she's made friends with the Lady,' the old woman said, shifting the basket as she leaned back.

"Who?' asked Aragorn, puzzled.

"Why Lotty, the dear.' stated Sissel. 'She's never had many, being mute and all. No one has ever really tried to get to know her, strange as she is. It's nice to see that she's found someone who will slow down enough to talk."

"Then I wish her the best of luck,' chuckled Aragorn softly, 'She's going to need it with the two of them."

Sissel smirked, eyes twinkling. "I would think that the two of them are going to need more of that luck, she's a wild one."

"Then they should get along famously,' he smiled, taking the heavy basket from her and walking down the hall towards where she had been headed. She took his arm, and lifted her head high as he walked into the laundry room, the other women stopping to look up in awe.

 **Please review and let me know what you think, I really appreciate it!**

 **I'm also sad to say that today I finished writing the last chapter to this story. I cannot decide if I want to do a epilogue or not, because where I ended it seems amazingly perfect. So, give me your opinion, would you want there to be an epilogue if it was up to you?**


	61. Chapter 58

Thennil walked the streets of Minas Tirith with Legolas and Gimli, exploring the streets she had not seen in many a century. The folks that they passed marveled at them, whispering behind their hands and pointing at them when they thought they weren't looking; for Legolas was fair of face beyond the measure of Men, and he sang an elven-song in a clear voice as he walked in the morning; but Gimli stalked beside him, stroking his beard and staring about him. Thennil tramped merrily along with them, looking about at the houses and the walls.

"There is some good stone-work here,' said the dwarf as he looked at the walls; 'but also some that is less good, and the streets could be better contrived. When Aragorn comes into his own, I, and I'm sure Thorin, will offer him the service of stonewrights of the Mountain, and we will make this a town to be proud of."

"They need more gardens, there are so few here, and only on the upper levels,' said Legolas. 'The houses are dead, and there is too little here that grows and is glad. If Aragorn comes into his own, the people of the Wood shall bring him birds that sing and trees that do not die."

Thennil smiled at her friends words, looking about the streets. "Imladris shall bring their herbs, and their knowledge of healing in the form of books and scrolls. I'm sure that Merry and Pippin will bring joy and laughter into these quiet streets, and soon I hope."

At length they came upon the form of Prince Imrahil in the market square, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low, Thennil curtsying beside him; for they saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood running through his veins. 'Hail, lord!' he said. 'It is long since the people of Nimrodel left the woodlands of Lorien, and yet still one may see that not all sailed from Amroth's haven west over the water.'

"So it is said in the lore of my land,' said the Prince, and he turned to Thennil, bowing low before her. 'Yet never has one of the fair folk been seen there for years beyond count, though it is rumored that on my wife's side of the family an elf married her grandmother many greats ago. I marvel at this, to see the fair folk here now in the midst of sorrow and war. What do you seek?"

"We are but a few of the ten companions who set out with Mithrandir from Imladris,' said Legolas; 'and with this Dwarf, my friend, and Lady Thennil Elderian, I came with Lord Aragorn. But now we wish to see our friends, Meriadoc and Peregrin, who are in your keeping, we are told."

Imrahil nodded, and smiled. "Yes. You will find them in the Houses of Healing, and I will lead you thither."

"It will be enough if you send one to guide us, lord,' Thennil said, withdrawing a folded piece of parchment. 'For Aragorn sends this message to you. He does not wish to enter the City at this time, heralded. Yet there is need for the captains to hold council at once, and he hopes to do so within the hall of the tower. He prays that you and Eomer of Rohan would come to him, as soon as may be."

She turned to her friends, 'We shall visit Merry and Pippin briefly, then join you, Imrahil. Aragorn is already within the Throne room talking with Mithrandir."

They nodded, and began to walk up the long streets to the Healing Halls. Imrahil hurried on quickly, seeming to have something to discuss with the king-to-be, and left the three of them in the dust. Legolas shook his head in awe.

"That is a fair lord and a great captain of men,' he said. If Gondor has such men still in these days that are fading, great must have been its glory in the days of its rising."

"And doubtless the good stone-work is the older and was wrought in the first building,' said Gimli. 'It is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in the Spring, or a blight in the Summer, and they fail of their promise."

"Yet seldom do they fail their seed,' said Legolas. 'And that will lie in the dust and rot to spring up again in times and places unlooked-for. The deeds of Men will probably outlast us, Gimli."

"And yet come to naught in the end but might-have-beens, I guess,' said the Dwarf.

"To that the Elves know not the answer,' replied the Elf.

"But hope and faith run through them like a thick thread, renewed with new thread as it wears thin in places,' she said.

 **Thennil** lead them through the winding paths of the city, and to the Healing Halls. It was there that they found their friends in the garden, and their meeting was a merry one. For a time they walked and talked, Thennil making sure that Merry rested ever so often from their exercise, rejoicing for a brief space in peace and rest under the morning high up in the windy circles of the City. The when Merry became to weary to walk, they went and sat upon the wall with the greensward of the Houses of Healing behind them; and away southward before them was the Anduin glittering in the bright sun, as it flowed away, and out of sight even of Thennil, into the wide flats and green haze of LEbennin and South Ithilien.

She continued to chat with the hobbits, but noticed Legolas' voice steadily declining in the conversation while the other's talked. He looked out against the sun, watching white sea birds beating up the River, their wings flashing now and then when they caught the sunlight. He was fascinated by them, and couldn't keep his eyes from them.

"Look!' he finally cried, standing and pointing out to the River. 'Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I saw them, though I could not hear their cries. They have fascinated me ever since, and I cannot get them out of my mind. Yet they stirred up a longing in my heart to see the sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. I doubt that I will find peace again under beech or elm."

"Say not so!' said Gimli, beseechingly. 'There are countless things still to see in Middle-earth, and great works to do. But if all the fair folk take to the Havens, it will be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay."

"Dull and dreary indeed!' said Merry from where he sat, looking up sorrowfully at the elf. 'You must not go to the Havens, Legolas. There will always be some folk, big or little, and even a few wise dwarves like Gimli, who need you. At least I hope so.'

Thennil stood, looking over the plains towards the River, spotting the birds. She had never felt the call of the sea, and wondered if it was because her fea knew that she would never pass over it, or see that distant shore. Oh, she had visited the Havens, and even travelled to Dol Amroth in the days of it's infancy, saw how it was built, and the people who dwelled on the shores grew, but the vast openness of of the sea had never seemed inviting to her. There was also the fact that it carried bad memories of her mother's departing so long ago.

'Though I feel somehow that the worst part of this war is still to come. How I wish it was all over, and well over!' finished Merry with a sigh.

"Don't be so gloomy!' cried Pippin. 'The Sun is shining, and here we are together for a day or two at least. I want to hear more about you all. Come Gimli! You, Legolas, and Thennil mentioned your strange journey with Strider about a dozen times already this morning. But you haven't told me anything about it."

Thennil chuckled, turning from the sunny view of the Anduin to look at the hobbit, who sat looking up at them with an eager expression on his face. "Always full of questions, Pippin."

He shrugged, and looked intently up at them.

"The Sun may shine here,' said Gimli, 'but there are memories of that road that I do not wish to recall out of the darkness. Had I known what was before me, I don't think that any friendship I had with anyone would or could have made me take the Paths of the Dead."

"The Paths of the Dead?' asked Pippin, shivering at the thought. 'I heard Aragorn say that, and I wondered what he could mean. Won't you tell us some more?"

"Not willingly,' replied the dwarf, standing and stretching. 'For upon that road I was put to shame: Gimli Gloin's son, who had deemed himself more tough than Men, and hardier under earth than any Elf. But neither did I prove; and I was held to the road only my the will of Aragorn."

"And by the love of him also,' Thennil said. 'For all those who come to know him come to love him after their own fashion."

"Even the cold maiden of the Rohirrim,' muttered Legolas with concern, then louder so that the others could hear, 'It was late at night that we left Dunharrow, and such a fear was on all the men that none would look on after our going, save Eomer, and Eowyn, who lies no hurt in the House below. There was grief at that parting, and I was grieved to behold it."

"Alas! I had heart only for myself,' said Gimli, strolling around them. 'Nay! I will not speak of that journey."

He fell silent; but Pippin and Merry were so eager for news that at last they waylaid Thennil, and peppered her with questions until she finally gave into their quest for knowledge.

"I will tell you enough to satisfy you're appetite for news, little ones,' she settled down on the edge of the wall, the stones towers and houses of Minas Tirith as her backdrop. 'I entered that place, but did not feel much horror while in it, for I do not entirely fear the shadows of Men, powerless and frail as I thought they were."

She quickly told of their long ride through the hills and crags of the mountain, and the dark door they had to enter. Of the long winding paths and caverns she spoke, giving enough detail to satisfy the hobbits, but not so much as to frighten them. She told them about meeting the Dead King, and the ghost armies that inhabited the caverns, never resting at piece, but waiting to be released from their living death. Of the loud and beautiful notes of the silver horn that Aragorn blew she spoke, and told of the army that appeared upon the shore-line, and the smoke and ships sailing up the river. "The ghosts wanted to hurry forward, but Aragorn forbid them.' she said, Legolas jumping in right after her.

"At his command they fell back. 'Even the shades of Men are obedient to his will,' I thought. 'They may serve his needs yet!"

She continued on, telling them of the taking of the ships, and coming into port. Here Legolas took over, quickly continuing the story until he paused and sighed turning his eyes southward softly he sang:

 _Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui_

 _In the green fields of Lebennin!_

 _Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea_

 _The white lilies sway,_

 _And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin_

 _In the green fields of Lebennin,_

 _In the wind from the Sea!_

"Green are those fields in the songs of my people, but they were dark then, grey wastes in the blackness before us. And over the wide land, trampling unheeded the grass and the flowers, we hunted our foes through day and night, until we came at the bitter end, the water opening up to reveal the River before Minas Tirith. Then I thought in my heart that we drew near to the Sea; for wide was the water in the darkness, and sea-birds innumerable flew on those shores. Alas for the wailing of the gulls! Did not the Lady tell me to beware of them? And now I cannot forget them."

He looked out longingly towards the south, but Thennil did not see it. She was shocked that her gift was still working, and that it would give her any foresight into the future. It was only a few flashes, and it went by so quickly that she was barely able to comprehend it all. A dark figure, unruly hair, and bright green eyes, the word ' _Miratara'_ in a strange script and then the vision was gone. She didn't stumbled, since she was already sitting down, but she leaned over her knees, supporting herself on her hands.

"Ere that dark day ended none of the enemy were left to resist us; all the men were dead, and those that the warriors caught have been brought back to Minas Tirith. Strange and wonderful I thought it that the designs of Mordor should be overthrown by such wraiths of fear and darkness. With its weapons was it worsted!'

'Strange indeed,' continued Legolas. 'In that hour I looked on Aragorn and through how great and terrible a Lord he might have become in the strength of his will, had he taken the Ring for himself. Not for naught does Modor fear him. But nobler is his spirit that the understanding of Sauron; for is he not of the children of Luthien? Never shall that line fail, though the years may lengthen beyond count."

"Beyond the eyes of Dwarves are such foretelling,' said Gimli. 'But mighty indeed was Aragorn that day. Lo! Even the dead listened to him! The King of the Dead cast his spear down before Aragorn, and they all faded away after the lad released them, against my better judgement. They're very handy in tight spots.'

"That night we rested a little before helping the find and bury the dead. And that is near the end of our tale. For during the next morning and into the evening we helped clear the Pelennor or the remains of our enemy. Even now the piles of corpse's still burn."

"I remember sailing on the River, the wind bringing us closer to Minas Tirith,' Thennil broke in, and her eyes were haunted. 'There was a great red glow in the North under the clouds. On the breeze we could smell smoke, it was then that Aragorn said Minas Tirith was burning."

"But!' said Legolas, a smile upon his face, 'at midnight hope was indeed born anew. Sea-crafty men of whom we had gathered from the shores as we sailed along gazed southward, and they spoke of a change coming with a fresh wind from the Sea. Long ere day the masted ships hoisted sail, and our speed grew, until dawn whitened the foam at our prows. And so it was when you spotted us from the walls, Pippin."

"Follow what may, great deeds are not lessened in worth,' she said. 'Great deed was the riding of the Paths of the Dead, and great it shall remain, though none be left in Gondor to sing of it in the days that are to come."

"And that may well befall,' said Gimli. 'For the faces of Aragorn and Gandalf are grave. I wonder what our counsels will bring to light. For my part, Merry, I wish that with our victory the war was now over. Yet whatever is still to do, I hope to have part in it, for the honor of the folk of the Lonely Mountain."

"And I for the folk of the Great Wood,' said Legolas.

"And I for the love of the Lord of the White Tree,' she whispered, sadness growing in her heart.

It was then that they all fell silent, but while Merry and Pippin were able to continue on in silence, the other's bid them farewell, knowing that Aragorn waited for them in the Throne room far above.

 **When** Prince Imrahil had parted from the strange trio, he had sent at once for Eomer, who still walked among his wounded men who had been placed out with the numerous healers so that the Healing Halls might make more room for those more grievously wounded. Together they had gone up into the City, and coming to the Throne room, they took counsel for a time together with Gandalf and Aragorn and the sons of Elrond. For a long while they talked of the battle, and the captives that they had taken from the field, both wounded and not, sitting deep in the dungeons and in the locked healing rooms of the Houses. Together they figured out how to ration the food that was left, and organized teams to begin fixing the damage to the gates of the city, so that they might protect themselves from any onslaught that Sauron might send to them. This took up most of their morning, and into the afternoon, and it was this that they had just finished discussing betwixt themselves when Legolas, Gimli, and Thennil joined them.

"My lords, and lady,' said Gandalf, looking at the group gathered around the throne, seated upon the steps, Gimli sitting in the stewards chair. 'listen to the words of the Steward of Gondor before he died: _You may triumph on the fields of the Pelennor for a day, but against the Power that has now arisen there is no victory._ I do not want you to despair, as he did, but to think on the truth of his words.' He turned towards the window, seemingly alone in his own thoughts, doubt and fear edging his voice. 'Frodo has passed beyond my sight. The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the ring, we would now it,' stated Aragorn, who stood with his back to the wizard.

Gandalf looked at him, still troubled, still worried. 'It is only a matter of time. Denethor saw great forces arrayed against him in Mordor, and more still being gathered, he saw that which truly is. Hardly has our strength sufficed to beat off the first great assault. The next will be greater. This war then is without final hope, as Denethor perceived. Victory cannot be achieved by arms, whether you sit here to endure siege after siege, or march out to be overwhelmed beyond the River. You have only a choice of evils; and prudence would counsel you to strengthen such strong places that we have, and there await the water that will come crashing down; our time before the end will be made a little longer."

"Then you would have us retreat here in Minas Tirith, or Dol Amroth, or to Dunharrow, and there sit like children on sandcastles when the tide is flowing in?' asked Imrahil in frustration.

"That would be no new counsel,' replied the wizard. 'Have you not done this a little more in all the days of Denethor? But no! I said this would be prudent. I do not counsel prudence. Sauron has suffered defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there. Let him rot. Why should we care?"

Gandalf's face turned ashen. 'Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom.' He looked out through the window towards the darkness that surrounded Mordor.

"Victory might not be able to be achieved by arms, but we must still hope for victory. Sauron knows that his Ring has been found, he just does not know where it is, or so we can hope. And so it must continue,' Thennil said, looking from one man to the next.

"I have sent him to his death,' muttered the wizard.

"No."

They all twisted to look at Aragorn, who turned around. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?' asked the wizard, and many of them were puzzled at the ranger's words. It was Thennil, with her years of experience and her knowledge of Sauron, who caught on first.

"Sauron.' she said, slowly. 'Sauron is watching. Always. He hears and sees much. His Nazgul are still abroad. They passed over this field when the sun rose this morning, though few of the weary and sleeping were aware of them. He studies the signs: the winds of fortune turning in our favor, and the defeat unlooked-for of his first assault; the fall of his greatest Captain, along with other smaller details that he would only look for,' here she paused, shuddering at the memories of the Witch-king.

Aragorn nodded.

"His doubt will be growing, even as we sit here and speak. His Eye is now straining towards us, blinded almost to all else that is moving. So we must keep it."

"We must draw out Sauron's armies- empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." Aragorn continued, and Gimli choked on his pipe as Eomer stepped forward.

"We cannot achieve this victory through the strength of arms, it would be foolish,' stated the Rohirrim.

"Not for ourselves...but we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed upon us, keep him blind." stated Aragorn eagerly.

"A diversion...'

"Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?' asked Gimli, puffing on his pipe.

"Sauron will suspect a trap,' stated Gandalf doubtfully.

"Or he will think that we have the Ring, and that we are pushing our necks out too soon and too far. He might take it."

The wizard shook his head. 'He will not take the bait!"

"Oh, I think he will.' murmured the ranger in the wizards ear.

Gandalf raised his eyebrow.

 **After** that they were silent for a while. It was at length that Aragorn spoke. 'As I have begun, so I will go on. We come now to the very brink, where hope and despair are akin. To waver is to fall. Let none now reject our counsels, nor those of Gandalf, whose long labour against Sauron now are to be tested. But for him all would have been lost long ago. Nonetheless, I do not yet claim to command any man. Let others choose as they will."

"I have guarded you and your line for this long, watching over and protecting and raising the children,' Thennil said, coming to kneel before him, bowing her head. 'I am yours to command, my King."

Aragorn shook his head, and taking her by the hand, raised her up. 'Do not kneel to me, I am not your King, I am your equal."

"You will always be my king,' she whispered, looking deep into his eyes, full of love.

Then her brother, Elrohir spoke: 'From the North we came with this purpose, and from Elrond our father this counsel was brought. We will not turn back."

"As for myself,' said Eomer, 'I have little knowledge of these deep matters; but I need it not. I know, and it is enough, that as my friend Aragorn succored me and my people, so I will aid him when he calls. I will go."

"As for me,' said Imrahil, 'the Lord Aragorn I hold to be my liege-lord, whether he claim it or not. His wish is to me a command. I will go also. Yet for a while I stand in the place of the Steward of Gondor, and it is mine to think first of its people. To prudence some heed must be given. We must prepare against any chance, whether it be good as well as evil. I pray that we triumph, and while there is any hope of this, Gondor must be protected. I would not have us return with victory to a City in ruins and a land ravaged behind us. And yet we learn form the Rohirrim that there is an army still unsought upon our north-western flank that is approaching fast."

Thennil's brow quirked as she heard something strange. The others didn't seem to notice, but ignoring their next words she rushed to the window, her eyes gazing out over the plains and up into country. She gasped at the sight. There riding over the hills was a small army, one that had struck fear into the hearts of many an enemy over the ages. Ahead of it rode a tall figure, his golden hair shining in the sunlight. It didn't take long for the figure to pass over the river, fly across the Pelennor, and burst up into the City. Those behind her also rushed to the window, gaping at the sight.

The rider, for that is what he was, galloped up the streets, and now and again they could see a flash of his golden hair when he was in the sun. Finally, with much shouting and muted sounds of clashing metal, the doors to the throne room burst open, and a tall golden figure entered the room, sword withdrawn as the guards cried in alarm.

"Glorfindel!' she cried, hurrying towards him, arms flung open in welcome. 'What brings you so far from your post in Imladris?"

He chuckled, as Imrahil gave orders to the guards. 'I was told that my Lady was in need of reinforcements, and though it took me time, here we are."

She laughed, flinging her arms around him, turning to Aragorn with a grin. Glorfindel hugged her tightly, his eyes sad. 'I have only been able to muster

Aragorn smiled, nodding to Glorfindel, 'I will never be able to thank you."

"Don't thank me,' said Glorfindel, nodding down at Thennil who was explaining who their golden haired elf was. Imrahil's jaw couldn't have been more unhinged. He stood before the great warrior, only hearing the first few words she said.

"You're Glorfindel the Balrog slayer?' he asked.

Glorfindel smiled, 'Yes, and I bring a thousand elves ready for battle."

"W-which are greatly appreciated,' stuttered Imrahil.

A hissing noise could be heard, and Thennil turned around, wondering where it had come from, but it was soon silenced, and the soft scuffing of feet could be heard fading in the distance.

Gandalf clapped Glorfindel on the shoulder. He turned to them all, a small grin on his face. "I do not counsel you to leave the City unmanned. Indeed the force that we lead east need not be great enough to challenge battle, even with the addition of the elves. We must move soon. What type of a force could we muster and lead out in two days time? The hardiest men who are willing, knowing the peril that we ride into."

Thennil stepped out from under Glorfindel's arm, "All are weary, and there are many who have wounds ranging from a few cuts to grievous gashes and the like. We have suffered a great loss among the horses, and that is ill."

"If we must ride soon, then I cannot hope to lead even two thousand men, and yet leave as many for the defense of the City,' said Eomer.

"We have not only reckoned with those who fought on this field,' said Aragorn. 'Many men from Lossarnach and Pelargir have already come up the River, and a few fearless riders from Angbor. If we set out in two more days, they will draw nigh before we depart. With the combined forces we should have around seven thousand on horse and foot, and yet leave the City better defended that it was before Sauron's assault."

"The Gate has been destroyed, and though we have begun to have it rebuilt, it will never be the same.' said Imrahil. 'There are few who have the skill to rebuild it strongly."

"I was saying earlier,' said Gimli. 'That in the kingdom of Thorin there is such skill,' he turned to Aragorn; 'and if all our hopes do not perish, then in time I will ask for wrights of the Mountain."

Aragorn nodded. "But men are better than gates, and no gate will endure against our Enemy if men desert it."

"And that is where we will come in,' said Glorfindel. 'My people will not desert their post, not when given orders by their Lady."

The men's brows wrinkled. 'Lady Galadriel?"

"Nay, she is a great lady, but it is her granddaughter that is greater still,' said Glordindel.

"How can this be?' asked Thennil, crossing her arms over her chest. 'What have I done that has earned me such renown from our people?"

Glorfindel smiled, 'Sacrificed everything for the one you love, and the people he came from."

She shook her head, 'Though that is looked upon with honor, it is not enough for them to revere me so."

"You're grandmother is the Lady of the Golden Wood; you are the Lady of the Races, the Queen in all but name."

She shrugged, 'I do not wish for that title,' she looked up into Aragorn's eyes, 'not until the King has been crowned."

This was then the end of their debate: that they would go forth from Minas Tirith on the second morning from that day with seven thousand, if these might be found; and the great part of this force should be on food, because of the evil lands into which they would go. Aragorn would find those of whom he had drawn to himself in the south, some two thousand, friends; but Imrahil should find two and a half thousand; and Eomer five hundred of the Rohirrim who found themselves unhorsed but war worthy, and he himself should lead five hundred of his best Riders on horse; and another company of five hundred horse they decided would be led by Elladan and Elrohir with the Dunedain and the knights of Dol Amroth; Glorfindel would lead the elves, numbering at seven thousand altogether. The main strength of the Rohirrim that remained horsed and able to fight, some three thousand under the command of Elfhelm, should waylay the West Road against the enemy that was in Anorien. And once the riders were sent out to gather what news they could northwards; and eastwards from Osgiliath and Minas Morgul.

 **So, I'm posting early! I'm still debating if I want to write an epilogue for this story, as I have it at a point that sees like it would be a good finished. Let me know what you think, that will be a big reason if I do or don't write one.**

 **Also, I've already started a new story, and will be posting the prologue this coming Wednesday. Guess which Character this story will follow?**

 **There is going to be a one-shot coming up soon, which I will let you know about before I post it to FF, it has to do with Thennil's story, but does not bring anything to this story, kind of a background to things that happened. So, be looking for that within the next few weeks too.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please, PLEASE! review.**

 **Thanks,**

 **Robin**


	62. Chapter 59

It was a while after this, when they had turned to other things, that Imrahil suddenly laughed aloud. Turning swiftly to look at him, they were startled, for he had grown so quiet that they had nearly forgotten him.

"Surely,' he cried, 'this is the greatest jest in all the history of Gondor: that we should ride with seven thousand, scarce as many as the vanguard of its army in the days of its power, to assail the mountains and impenetrable gate of the Black Land! So might a child threaten a mail-clad knight with a bow of string and green willow! If the Dark Lord knows so much as you say, Mithrandir, will he rather smile than fear, and with his little finger crush us like a fly that tries to sting him?"

"No, he will try to trap the fly and take the sting,' said Gandalf shaking his head. 'And there are names among us that are worth more than a thousand mail-clad knights apiece. No, he will not smile."

"Neither shall we,' said Aragorn. 'If this is a jest, then it is to bitter for laughter. Nay, it is the last move in a great jeopardy, and for one side or the other it will bring the end of the game.'

Thennil sat among the small blossoms of one of the many garden's that the palace contained, popping up everywhere. Here the buds had already bloomed, and their sweet scent was heavy in the air. She stared towards the north, wondering what her Father, and Grandparents were up to. Ada would undoubtably be in the study, reading over some ancient text or another, or perhaps writing about the happenings in Middle Earth for the next generation, if there was one. Her Grandparents probably were at the edges of their great forests, battling against the orcs and wildmen that assailed them there. She worried for them. It had been many years since her Grandmother took up a weapon, though she really didn't need one with her gifts; her Grandfather was not much of a fighter, but a peacemaker, taking part in the practice of weapons, but more often than not could be found in the vast libraries of the Golden Wood.

She leaned over, pulling her eyes from the distant hills down to the petals falling and piling up at her feet, the breeze playing with them. A sharp pain in her chest began to intensify, growing larger and larger. She pressed her hand against her heart, gasping, feeling it stutter in her chest, she tried to stand, leaning on the pillar with her arm, sight blurring. Her breath came in shallow pants, as if it was being squeezed out of her, a great hand clamping around her lungs and forcing all the air out. Her body shuddered, and a cold feeling seemed to envelop her, drawing her towards the ground. She tried to scream, cry, anything, but nothing worked, it only made her vision blur more. She took a step outward, leaning the support of the pillar. Darkness seemed to surround her, she reached up, her hands grasping at thin air, towards the sun desperately, gaping. Tears fell from her eyes as she stumbled, clutching her chest, her knees crashing into the ground. It was as if her very soul was being sucked out of her.

Ahead of her was a pool, small and still, and she dragged herself to it. Her hair crowded around her face, and she shakily pushed it away. She glanced down into the water, and gasped at the change. Before her skin had seemed to glow with the light of the stars, smooth and ageless, now the light had dimmed considerably, and it flickered before her eyes, like someone flashing a light on and off. She moved her hand over her face, touching her cheek, which now felt cold to the touch, like ice in the depths of winter.

"Not yet,' she whispered weakly, shaking. She wept, leaning down on the lip of the pool, the tears falling swiftly. Her life flashed before her eyes as she lay there, and she felt miserable. She didn't hear the worried voices enter the garden calling her name, nor the scuffing of feet upon the stone paths winding around the garden shrubbery.

"Thennil!" the cry went up from the voices, almost indistinguishable from one another.

She looked up, wearily, locking onto her brother's two horrified faces. They dropped to their knees beside her, taking her weak form into their arms.

"What is happening to you?' Elladan demanded, though his voice shook with fear.

"You saw how weak I was, you should know,' she whispered, leaning against his chest tiredly.

"Ada said that your fate was tied to the Ring, but what does he really mean?' worried Elrohir, a flicker of realization blooming in his eyes as he worked out what was happening.

"The longer that it remains undestroyed, the sooner I will die,' she stated, closing her eyes. 'My strength is slowly being drained away,' her chest shuddered, 'I haven't much longer."

"How much?" asked Elladan, stroking her hair.

"I'm not sure,' she told them, and he hugged her closer to his chest.

"How much?' he asked sternly.

She looked up at him, smiling weakly, 'A week and a little more at most."

The twins shook their heads, "No."

"There is nothing you can do, nothing that I can do,' she said, sitting up, though she was supported by Elladan.

"There must be!"

Elrohir searched back through his memories, all the books he had ever read, all the information that he had stored up over his long life. He had pieced together what was truly happening, and was desperate to find a cure. He found one at last, and grasped onto it desperately.

"You can pull energy from something around you, right?' he asked.

She looked at him curiously, and nodded.

"Then pull from this garden, or better yet,' he grasped wrist tightly, 'From me."

"No Elrohir!" she cried, trying to yank away, feeling the energy start to flow into her veins, the pain ebbing away. She struggled against him, horrified that he would so willingly give her some of his life-force. He held her in his strong grip, for though they were the same high, and had fought and trained for much of their life, he was still the stronger one betwixt them. Finally, when she had gained enough from him, she was able to yank her arm out of his grasp, scrambling away from him.

His faced looked drawn, and there were a few lines around his eyes that had not been there before. She knew that once he had slept that they would disappear, but it still pained her to see them.

"Don't ever do that again,' she whispered, tears falling down her face as she hugged him. 'Ada has already lost Naneth, now me. He cannot suffer to lose another member of his small family.' She lifted up his face with her fingers. 'He needs you."

"But Aragorn needs you,' countered Elrohir.

She smiled, 'Aragorn has been taught to adapt to his situation. I'm sure that once I was gone, and he has mourned a little, he'd find someone else to love."

"I don't know if that is true,' whispered Elladan.

"You must not put off telling him,' Elrohir said. 'Not anymore. Promise me."

"I-I promise,' she sighed, leaning into his shoulder.

Walking up to Imrahil's house, one could call it a small palace, it was larger than any other house on the street, Thennil leaned on Aragorn's arm. They were welcomed by the servants, and showed to the main sitting room in Imrahil's suite. Other's soon followed, Eomer and Eothain, Legolas and Gimli. Gandalf would follow soon after with the two hobbits, he had gone to fetch them from the Healing Halls. They seated themselves on the couches and chairs scattered conveniently around the room, and waited for their host to arrive.

There were many doors that led out of the sitting room, and one could only assume they led to Imrahil's bedroom, and study, and other rooms like sunrooms and the like. Eomer looked about in awe, marveling at the finery of the chamber, the delicate structure of the roof, and the stone work on the walls. There were many windows in the room, set high in the ceiling, letting what was left of the sunlight in. He ran his rough hand over the soft fabric of the chair cushion, the smoothness of the wood-carved arm of the chair, and the thick carpet beneath his worn boots. Such richness and extravagance he had never experienced before. Everything about Rohan was rough and useful, there were very few things, like paintings on the walls, that could be found. Everything had a purpose.

They were suddenly interrupted by a raised voice, though it came from beyond one of the doors leading from the sitting room. Aragorn listened closely, and told them that it was Imrahil and his sons. They squirmed uncomfortably as they listened, having no choice but to eavesdrop on the conversation, strange though it was. Legolas and herself, along with Aragorn, who was sitting closest to the door, were able to hear most of the conversation, while the others only caught a few words.

"Why was I never told this?"

"How could you do that? You know that it's dangerous!"

"So, you wanted to play the hero?"

"I know you wanted to help, but you could have chosen to have done so differently, you could have been killed!"

"I know that you've had training, but that doesn't make you a warrior!"

"I don't care how capable Faramir think you are-

There was silence for a few moments betwixt the voices, finally followed by a long, loud sigh from Imrahil.

"You are to precious to loose, my little duckling, never treat yourself like you are worth less, you have so much to show the world,' he said.

They all looked at one another in confusion, wrinkling their eyebrows.

The door opened, and out came Imrahil's three sons. They smiled weakly, and shuffled with discomfort. The door closed sharply behind them, and they jumped, looking back in annoyance. Elphir, the eldest, stepped forward, opening his arms wide in welcome.

"I apologize for the delay, something of importance came up that had to be discussed,' he said, smiling.

They all nodded, and Gimli looked curiously behind the three, though he couldn't see much.

Elphir turned to Aragorn and Eomer, 'I don't think any of you have met our sister, Lothloriel."

"No, I don't think we have,' said Eomer, curiously.

Elphir smile dropped a little before rising, 'She is a little strange, but then, aren't all sisters strange to us men?"

He chuckled, and the other's joined in hesitantly.

Behind them the door opened, and out came Imrahil, and on his arm a dark beauty. There were a few muted gasps from the men, excluding Aragorn, who only smirked. The other's stood, jaws slacked. This beautiful maiden was none other than Lotty of the Houses of Healing.

She smiled uncomfortably, and curtsied, though Eomer and Eothain didn't seem to catch the movement, so taken up were they with her. While both had seen her before, she had been clothed in a healers tunic and trousers, and her hair had been pulled back in a tight, thick braid, a kerchief on her head. Now she was dressed in a light turquoise dress with long draping sleeves the looked like the froth from a wave on the beach, her long dark hair was loose, and tumbled down her back in an ornate braid, a few loose curls falling down to lay on her skin like strands of the night sky and it's stars. Her skin though naturally pale, was peach kissed, a pretty red blush gracing her cheeks.

Eothain snapped out of his daze faster than Eomer, and strode forward, taking her hand in his and kissing it. "It is an honor to finally put a name to a face who treated so many of my men, and a pretty one at that."

She blushed deeper, smiling, but it never reached her eyes. There deep pools of ocean blue swirled with worry, and a small bit of fear. She curtsied again to him, but clung to her father's arm for protection, which seemed strange to those in the room who had seen her work so diligently in the healing halls, commanding so much respect.

Eomer shook himself out of his daze, glaring shortly at his lieutenant before bowing over her hand and kissing it, his beard tickling her wrists. "Aye, it is a great honor, many of my men have spoke of you, of your compassion and gentle nature, you're willingness to do anything to bring them comfort in their pain."

Imrahil raised his eyebrow.

She nodded at him, shyly, barely daring to look him in the eye.

Eothain laughed, slapping Eomer on the back when he took a step back, 'Look at you, charming the ladies of the court speechless already, and you haven't even been here a week!"

The Dol Amroth family grew silent, staring at the rider, their eyes cold. Elphir and his brother's fingered their swords, which were still strapped to their hips, glaring at the man. Eothain looked from one to another in confusion as the trio stepped forward.

"I would mind your words, Rohirrim,' Erchirion stated, withdrawing his sword a little, a steel edge to his ton now.

"What?" asked the clueless Rider boldly, and the tension in the room rose.

From behind her brother's burst the Princess, hair snapping about her as she made motions at them, growing red in the face as her hands moved faster and faster, her eyes flashing like swords as she glared at them.

Sighing, Erchirion turned to their guests, 'Forgive us. We are not used to our sister having admirers, it puts us a little on edge."

"A little?' huffed Gimli, raising an eyebrow.

The lady placed a hand on the shoulder of her eldest brother and nodded down at his hand, which still rested upon his sword. He groaned inwardly, and slid the weapon back into it's scabbard. Then he smiled at their companions.

A bell rang somewhere in the house.

His eyes lit up, 'I think that was the call to supper. Come, join us."

The other's nodded, relaxing a little as the oldest son took his sisters arm and led the out of the room and through the corridors to the dinning room. Though many wondered at the strange behavior of the princes', none spoke of it for the rest of the evening as they laughed and joked and made merry for a small while together at Imrahil's table.

"Stay in Minas Tirith,' came a heavy voice from behind her.

Turning, she beheld her love, and cocked her head to one side.

"Stay here, protect the city,' he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Haldir's younger brother is in charge of the city, why leave me here when I can be a greater assent on the field?"

He sighed. "I want someon-

Her eyes narrowed, "I will not stay and hide when I can fight by your side. I made a vow, and I will not break it."

He frowned, eyes lighting with a smoldering anger. "I want you here, where you will be safe."

She shook her head, "No matter where I go, Aragorn, danger is always close by. I will not break my vow."

He clenched his hands, shaking, though she wondered if it was more from fear than anger. "I can't lose you, Thennil."

She stepped closer to him, her hand finding his bearded cheek, "How do you think every woman feels when she watches her man go off to war? I can't lose you either, and I will not stay here, waiting in ignorance for news when I could be with you."

He shook his head, 'I'm trying to protect you."

"You cannot cage the wild bird, Aragorn. Doing so will suffocate it, and soon it's spirit would perish, it's song would cease, and it's beauty lost as it longed to be free, to fly." She whispered.

Two days later the army of the West was all assembled on the Pelennor. the host of Orcs and Easterlings had turned back out of Anorien, but harried and scattered by the Rohirrim they had broken and fled with little fighting towards Cair Andros; and with that threat destroyed and new strength arriving out of the South the City was as well manned as might be. Scouts reported that no enemies remained upon the roads east as far as the Cross-roads of the Fallen King. All now was ready for that last assault.

Thennil was concerned for Merry, knowing that he had healed, but that he was still weak. "You are not fit for such a journey,' she told him, running her hands through his hair, releasing a small amount of golden sparks that seeped from her fingertips. 'But do not be ashamed. If we do no more in this war, it is you who have already earned great honor. But in truth all now are in danger. Though it may be our part to find a bitter end before the Gate of Mordor, if we do so, then you will come also to a last stand, either here or wherever the black tide overtakes you."

At last the trumpets rang and together they rode out, Merry with Eomer, Pippin with Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli together, and at the front of the line, Aragorn, with Thennil a little ways behind him as he led their party out. Troop by troop, and company by company, they wheeled and went off eastward. And long after they passed out of sight down the great road to the Causeway, many figures stood there watching, among them, though hidden from most eyes, stood a lithe figure on one of the towers, looking out from the windows, their long hair fluttering in the breeze. The last glint of the morning sun on spear and helm twinkled and was lost, and still the figure remained with bowed head and heavy heart, feeling friendless and alone. Everyone that she cared for had gone away into the gloom that hung over the distant eastern sky; and a little hope was left in her heart that she would ever see any of them again.

She continued to watch as the troops left the city, tapping her fingers absentmindedly on her arm. As if recalled by his mood of despair, the pain in her throat and head returned, and the bandage around her arm throbbed. She felt weak and old, and the sunlight seemed thin. She was roused by the touch of an unknown hand, and turned swiftly, snatching the long dagger from her belt with practiced ease, pointing it at the intruder. She gasped, though there was no sound, and lowered the dagger instantly.

Standing before her was a tall elf, hair almost white it was so blonde, and eyes so blue, they could have been apart of the sky on a sunny day in Dol Amroth. He raised his hands, as if to say he meant her no harm, and began to speak in rapid Sindarin.

"The most dangerous woman of all is the one who refuses to rely on those with swords around her to save her, but carries her own."

She shook her head, pointing to her mouth, them mimed words coming out, her fingers dancing. He looked at her curiously, then nodded his head, speaking in a broken mixture of Sindarin and Westron.

"Come, My Lady,' he said. 'You are still weary, I can see it. I know that you wish to remain until there is not flicker of movement, but there is so much that you could be doing to prepare for the return of the company."

The return of the king, you mean, She thought, nodding, and sheathing her dagger, began to descend the steps from the tower. The elf followed after her, and soon they fell into a comparable silence as she began to clean and open up windows that had stayed closed for longer than any of her people had been alive.

It was near noon when the army came to Osgiliath. It was here that all the workers and craftsmen among them that could be spared got busy. Some were strengthening the ferries and boat-bridges that the enemy had made and in part destroyed when they had fled; some gathered stores and booty; and others on the eastern side of the River were throwing up hasty works of defense.

The vanguard passed on through the ruins of Old Gondor, and over the wide River, and on up the long straight road that in the high days had been made to run from the fair Tower of the Sun to the tall Tower of the Moon, which was now Minas Morgul in its accursed vale. Five long miles beyond Osgiliath they halted, ending their first days march.

But all who rode upon their horses pressed on and ere evening they came to the Cross-roads and the great ring of trees, and all was silent. No sign of any enemy was seen, no cry or call had been heard, no shaft had sped from rock or thicket by the way, yet ever as they went forward they felt the watchfulness of the land increase. Tree and stone, blade and leaf were listening. The darkness had been dispelled, and far away westward sunset was on the Vale of Anduin, and the white peaks of the mountains blushed in the blue air; but a shadow and a gloom brooded upon the Ethel Duath.

It was with pride the Thennil watched as Aragorn set trumpeters at each of the four roads that ran into the ring of the trees, and had them blow a great blow, continually, triumphantly, and the heralds cried aloud: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned and all this land that is theirs they take back!"

Where the hideous orc-head that was set upon a carven figure the men gathered, and tore it down, breaking it into pieces, and in it's place they raised the old king's head set in it's place once more. Upon it's brow they laid a crown of white and golden flowers, woven by her own hand; and the men labored to wash and sand away all the foul scrawls that the orcs had put upon the stone. She dismounted, and taking from her saddlebags produced a dark blue mantle, one that she had sewn long ago, and draped it over the shoulders of the stone king. The fabric was rough, made of wool, and the seams enforced with thick threads. The breeze caught it up like a flag, and it waved in the wind.

Aragorn stepped up next to her, gently resting his arm over her shoulders. She looked up at him curiously, cocking her head to one side as she observed his serious expression. His other hand came up and cupped her face, rubbing gentle circles on her cheek with his thumb. He avoided looking at her straight in the eye, and she caught the troubled look the bubbled and churned there.

"What is it?" she asked in a whisper.

He shook his head, 'Nothing."

"You wouldn't be looking at me like that if it truly was nothing,' she urged.

A haunted look came into his eye, but he instantly pushed it away. "I'm just worried."

"We'll be fine." She reassured.

The haunted look diminished, but did not leave his eyes.

She nodded, but sensed that this was not what truly bothered him. She toed the ground, contemplating whither or not if this would be a good time to tell him. She had tried once before, just before he had gone to look into the palatir, but hadn't been able to get up the courage. Swallowing her shame, she turned to look him in the eye, taking one of his hands covertly in her own.

"I wanted to tell you-

"My Lord Aragorn!' cried one of the soldiers, hurrying over to them. "Prince Imrahil requests your presence in his tent for matters of counsel."

Aragorn nodded, taking a step away, but twisted to look back at her, 'What was it you wanted to tell me?" His mind was already on what he would say when he got into the counsel tent.

She shrugged, and stood up on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, 'Just that I love you, I don't feel like I've said it enough."

He smiled, though she saw suspicion in his eye, "And I you."

He squeeze her hand, and they began to walked towards Imrahil's tent.

Now in their debate some had counseled that Minas Morgul should first be assailed, and if they might take it, it should be utterly destroyed. 'And, maybe,' said Imrahil, stroking his pointed beard, 'the road that leads thence to the pass above will prove an easier way of assault upon the Dark Lord than his northern gate.'

But against this Gandalf had spoken urgently, along with Thennil, who had watched over Mordor, and at times Minas Morgul, because of the evil that dwelt in the valley, where the minds of living men would turn to madness and horror, and because also of the news that Faramir had brought. For if the Ring-bearer had indeed attempted that way, then above all they should not draw the Eye of Mordor thither. So the next day when the main host came up they placed a strong guard upon the Cross-roads to make a small line of defense if Mordor should send a force over the Morgul pass, or have men brought up from the South. The guard consisted mostly of archers who knew their way around Ithilijn and would lie hidden in the woods where no one would see them. But Gandalf and Aragorn rode wth the vanguard to the entrance of Morgul Vale and looked on the evil city.

Thennil's heart shuddered, and her breath came in small gasps as they neared the darkness, and she wished to never see anything like it again. It was dark and lifeless; for the Orcs and lesser creatures of Mordor that had dwelt there had been destroyed in battle, and the Nazgul were abroad. Yet the air of the valley was heavy with fear and enmity. They broke the evil bridge and set red flames in the noisome fields and departed.

With each passing hour that they neared the Black Gates, her fea seemed to grow weaker, as if the darkness was snuffing out what little light had sparked there. Her brother kept close to her as they rode, talking about anything and everything to keep her mind occupied and off of the steady pain that grew in her chest. It worried her that they could feel even just a portion of what she felt, for the pain was terrible, like a prowling lion of the South looking to feed on anything available. Their jokes lifted not only her own spirit, but those around her, and she was able to ignore her pain for a time.

That night she entered Aragorn's tent, much to her amusement that his guards did not say anything, but merely looked past her like she wasn't even there. She knew that they would most likely not survive the battle at the Gate, or at least that she would not, and had come to him. He was sitting upon his cot, which was surprisingly larger than she had imagined, but ignored it. She could see the weariness in his shoulders, the hopelessness in his eyes. Kneeling before him, she took his callused hands into her own.

"Do not be dismayed, my love,' she whispered, looking up at him. 'All is not lost."

He shook his head. 'Then why do I feel like I am leading them all to their deaths?"

"We go willingly, because we know that we would rather die saving our world than watching it be destroyed slowly, piece by piece,' she said, kissing his hands.

A tear fell from his eye as he cupped her face with his hands, cradling it like it was the most fragile thing in the world. 'I wish-I wish-

He dropped his hands, taking hers in his. He looked her over, his eyes falling to the necklace that lay against her white collar bone. He slumped.

"What is it you wish?" she asked.

"I wish that I could have married you,' he whispered, barely audible.

She didn't reel back, didn't gasp in shock, she blinked, blurting the first thing that came to mind, "Then why haven't you?"

He looked up at her, shocked, then dismayed. "I had nothing to offer you, no grand home like your used to, no library, no things.' He wept. 'I have-had nothing. What could I give you that would satisfy you?"

"Nothing to offer me?' she asked, puzzled. 'I couldn't care less if you had a palace, jewels that rivaled those of the dwarves, or a muddy hut in a dirty town with only a few scraps to eat, all I want is you, Aragorn, and your love, which is more than I ever hoped for. It is more than enough."

He shook his head, 'You father said that I would not be able to marry you until I was king."

"You are the king,' she said, leaning forward and kissing his tears. 'And my father has always been a little outrageous in his demands."

He laughed, stroking her hands with his thumbs. 'Not truly."

"Since the day that I held your grandfather in my arms when he was but a babe newly born and I prophecies over his line, I knew that one day a King would rise, though I did not understand who it was about at the time,' she whispered. 'You are that king, my king."

He smiled at her, and drew her into his arms. His kiss was passionate, holding her close as their lips met, rough and filled with need. There was only a fleeting glance of uncertainty in his gaze before she kissed him, drawing him down onto the pallet, eyes large and eager, inviting. He didn't hesitate then. Hovering over her, one hand running over her face and the other pulling his shirt over his head. Between kisses she an image plagued her mind, and she tried to speak.

"Aragorn,' she gasped, eyes glazed over, but not unaware. 'There's something I- gasp- need to tell- groan-you."

He nuzzled her neck, peppering kisses upon the sensitive skin there and working his way up to her very sensitive ear. His hot breath blowing over the sensitive point made her shudder. He didn't seem to be paying attention.

"Aragorn?' breathily.

"Hmm?' he hummed as he paused. 'What is it, my love?"

"I-I-I'm-

"It doesn't matter, Thennil,' he murmured, kissing the tears that had leapt into her eyes, knowing how much she felt like her scars made her ugly.

"It's import-

He sucked the point of her ear into his mouth, and she protested no more, mind becoming fuzzy. Needless to say, the ride the next morning was one of the most uncomfortable that she had ever ridden, but she was content, a new light shinning in her eyes.

The day after, being the third day since they set out from Minas Tirith, the army began its northward march along the road. It was some hundred miles by that way from the Cross-roads to the Morannon, and what might befall them before they came so far none knew. They went openly but heedfully, with mounted scouts before them on the road, and others on foot upon either side, especially on the eastward flank; for there lay dark thickets, and a tumbled land of rocky ghylls and crags, behind which the long grim slopes of the Ethel Duath clambered up.

Ever and anon Gandalf let blow the trumpets, and the heralds would cry: "The Lords of Gondor are come! Let all leave this land or yield them up!" But Imrahil said: 'Say not The Lords of Gondor. Say The King Elessar. For that is true, even though he has not yet sat upon the throne; and it will give the Enemy more though, if the heralds use that name.' And thereafter thrice a day the heralds proclaimed the coming of the King Ellessar. But none answered the challenge.

They marched on in a seemingly peaceful procession, but their hearts were far from peace. From the highest to the lowest in the army, each heart was downcast, and with every mile that they went north foreboding of evil grew heavier and heavier, weighing them down. So time and the hopeless journey wore away. Upon the fourth day from the Cross-roads and the sixth from Minas Tirith they came at last to the end of the living lands, and began to pass into the desolation that lay before the gates of the Pass of Cirith Gorgor; and they could descry the marshes and the desert that stretched north and west to the Emyn Muil. So desolate were those places and so deep the horror that lay on them that some of the host were unmanned, and they could neither walk nor ride further north.

Aragorn looked at them, Thennil laying a cool hand on his shoulder as the pity grew in his eyes; for these were young men from Rohan, from the Westfold far away, or husbandmen from Lossarnach, and to them Mordor had been from childhood a name of evil, and yet unreal, a legend that no part in their simple life; and now they walked like men in a hideous dream made true, and they understood not this war nor why fate should lead them such a pass.

"Go!' he said, filled with compassion. 'But keep what honor you may, and do not run! And there is a task which you may attempt and so be no wholly shamed. Take your way south-west till you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, as I think , then re=take it, if you can; and hold it to the last defense of Gondor and Rohan!"

Then some being shamed by his mercy overcame their fear and went on, and the others took new hope, hearing of a manful deed within their measure that they could turn to, and they departed. And so, since many men had already been left at the Cross-roads, it was with less than six thousand that the Captains of the West came at last to challenge the black Gate and the might of Mordor.

 **Here we are! The end of Chapter 59, which I think might be the longest one to date, almost 6,000 words. Let me know what you thought!**

 **Also, I'm going to delay posting my next books prologue.**

 **I want to know who you think I'll be writing about next!**

 **I probably won't post it until after Chapter 63, so that gives you a few chapters to let me know who you think might be the focus of my next chapter. Will it be an OC? A character that Tolkien wrote about, but with a different spin on it? Someone he wrote little about? Guess!**


	63. Chapter 60

**So, I apologize for not posting yesterday, I was at work all day and when I came home all I wanted to do was sleep. Also, anymore guesses at who will be in the next book? Just curious...**

They advanced slowly up to the gate, ever cautious of the foe the lay behind it's great walls. They expected to be challenged every hour, but there was no noise that issued from the gate. It grew cold, and the wind died down and all the air seemed still. The hours passed in wakefulness and they were aware of many things half-seen that walked and prowled all about them in the shadow, and heard the low holding of wolves. The land seemed empty, deserted, but they knew better. The two towers on either side of the gate loomed up into the sky, like two teeth in the jaws of a beast, long and sharp.

The two huge doors of the Black Gate were made of a dirty iron, strong and thick. They were closed under the frowning arch, sealed tight. All was silent and watchful, and the elves among the men could seen the beady eyes of the few orcs that walked the top of the gate, glaring down at them evilly. They were come to the last end of their folly, and stood forlorn and chill in the grey light before the towers and walls which their army could not assault with hope, not even if it had brought thither engines of great power and the Enemy had no more force than would suffice for the manning of the gate and wall alone.

Aragorn now set the host in such array as he could, organizing them to their advantage, though it was little. When all was ordered, they waited again.

From his seat before his friends, Pippin looked over the gate curiously. "Where are they?"

Gandalf looked at Aragorn out of the side of his eye, and nodded. Together the Captains rode forth towards the Black Gate with a small guard of horsemen and the banner and heralds and trumpeters. There was Gandalf as the Chief herald, and Aragorn with the sons of Elrond, with Thennil riding at his right hand, and Eomer of Rohan, and Imrahil; and legolas and Gimli and the two hobbits, so that all the enemies of Mordor should have a witness.

Pulling their horses to a stop about fifty yards from the towering Gates, they looked up at the dark mouth. Gandalf made to speak, but Aragorn raised his hand and shouted up at the Gates, voice deep and filled with authority.

"Let the lord of the Black Lands come forth; let justice be done upon him! For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore, I, Aragorn, King of Gondor demand that he should atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"

There was a long silence, and from the wall and gate no noise could be heard. No shuffling of feet, or snorting, or rattling of weapons. But Sauron had already laid hi plans, and he had a mind first to play them cruelly before he struck to kill. So it was that as their horses began to dance nervously, and their hearts quickened within their chests, that the silence was broken suddenly. There came a long, loud creaking noise, echoing across the land, a low rolling of drums like a deep rumble of thunder in the mountains shook the ground beneath their feet. The gate opened far enough that a single rider was able to walk through, and dark was his coming.

He, or rather it, was mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. It's rider was robed all in black, his clock billowing around him, though there was no breeze to ruffle any cloth. They could not figure out if he was a man, or if he was of some other blood, for a great helm he wore over his face, blocking it from view so that all that could be seen was he mouth. His mouth! It was a thing to do more than frighten children, for the skin around it was as pale as the moon, but there was no coloring in his lips, if he had any. they were split and bleeding, his teeth were long and thin, almost like a horses, yet sharpened to a point. Each time he moved his mouth they nicked it, causing a small trail of continuous blood to trail down his face. His lips were split deep into his skin, cracked like one starving for water, and yet his mouth was moist, and things crawled in it.

He stood before them, and laughed. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me? Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!' he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn. 'It needs more to make making than a piece of Elvish glass, or rabble such as this. Why, any brigand of the hills can show as good a following!' he turned to looked at Thennil behind Aragorn, and smirked. 'And what is this? An Elvish Princess? But where is your crown? And where is your needlework? You are nothing but a child lost in a world she does not understand, doomed to wander till her end."

Aragorn did not reply, but he looked deep into the other being, holding his gaze, and for a moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, the other quailed slightly. Then the mouth of Sauron rose up grinning, reaching his hand back towards something deep within his swirling cloak.

"My Master, Sauron bids thee welcome."

Aragorn gave the thing a curious look.

It was then that Gandalf, angered by the words of this fend spoke, nearly spitting his words out. "We do not come to treat with Sauron, the faithless and cursed. Tell your master this. The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The being chuckled, shaking his head. 'Ah! Old Greybeard. I have a token I was bidden to show thee." From within the depths of his cloak he pulled forth a short sword, one that Thennil instantly remembered Sam carrying. Then next came a grey cloak, one that each of the company was familiar with, the Elven broach dirty. For the last item, he raised a garment up into the air that shimmered and shone in the dim light, and they inhaled sharply. It was Frodo's mithril coat. A blackness came before their eyes, and it seemed to them in a moment of silence that the world stood still, but their hearts were dead and their last hope gone.

"Frodo!' gasped Pippin, barely able to breath as he shook.

The being laughed, throwing the last item across the span. Gandalf caught it in his hand, his eyes large and disbelieving, how could this be?

"Frodo!' the poor hobbit wailed a little louder.

"Silence!" demanded Gandalf, looking down at the mithril in his hands.

"No,' cried Merry, leaning into Eomer.

"Silence!"

"The halfling was dear to you, I see.' Grinned the Mouth, cocking his head. 'Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host."

Gandalf slowly slipped the mail into Pippins shaking hands.

"Who would have thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf, he did." The Mouth gloated.

Thennil stiffened her back, tears forming at the backs of her eyes as she glared at the thing sitting on it's horse before them. Aragorn nudged his horse forward, circling the Mouth.

The Mouth chortled, liquid dripping out of his mouth as he smiled, his long teeth brown and shining with excess moisture. "And who is this?' he goaded. 'Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade."

Aragorn swept out his sword, beheading the Mouth, anger radiating from him.

"I guess that concludes any negotiations,' muttered Gimli from behind Legolas.

"I do not believe it!' Cried Aragorn. 'I will not!"

Behind them the Black gate began to opened, and drums rolled and fires leaped up. Out of it streamed a great host as swiftly as swirling waters when a sluice is lifted. The Captains stood a few seconds in horrified awe, but quickly turned about and rode for their own army, the jeering and shouting of the host of Mordor growing louder behind them. Thennil tried not to breath as the acrid dust rose around them, smothering air. Sauron had taken the proffered bait in jaws of steel.

As they rode up upon their men, Aragorn raised his sword. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!"

Thennil and the other's back themselves into the line of mounted men as Aragorn rode back and forth in front of the lines of men shaking in their boots. On one side were the flags of Rohan and Dol Amroth, White Horse and Silver Swan. On the other stood the great banner of Minas Tirith, a Tree surrounded by Stars of silver. Around each banner the men stood, eyes fastened on the gate and their approaching doom. Towards Mordor, where the first assault would come stood Thennil with her brother's and the elves with the Dunedain about them, and on their right the Prince Imrahil with the men of Dol Amroth tall and fair, and picked men of the Tower Guard.

The wind blew and the trumpets sang as the host of Mordor drew near. Aragorn lifted his voice as he surveyed his men, seeing the despair in their eyes. He caught sight of Thennil, and she nodded her head, using her hand, and kissed it, blowing it towards him over the distance. He drew strength from her, and turned back towards his comrades.

"Sons of Gondor-of Rohan-of Dol Amroth-of Iluvatar...my Brothers!' he cried, gazing out on his army. And it seemed to each that he was talking to them as an individual, not them as a whole, but personally. 'I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. Ad day may come when the courage of Men fails; when we forsake ur friends and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day- an hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the Age of Men comes crashing down- but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth- I bid you stand!'

The men began to shout and yell, a new fire born within them as they stomped their feet and slammed their spears against their shields with great vigor. In unison the men drew their swords, shuffling closer to the approaching line of orcs and Easterlings.

"Rise! Men of the West!"

Thennnil dismounted from her horse, whispering words in it's ear, watching as it galloped away with a few of the other. With each heartbeat she watched the host draw nearer and nearer, their laughter and jeering growing louder and louder as they slowly encircled their small band. Beside her stood her brother's and Glorfindel, their swords draw and ready. She smiled, though it was grim, and reached out a hand to each, squeezing it tightly as they waited and watched as their enemy flowed out of the gates like a river. They drew closer to one another, elbows nearly touching as the enemy pressed in towards them. She adjusted the grip on her sword, and the shield on her arm, the silver tree and stars shining in the dim light of the sun.

Off in the distance rose the great tower, the red eye on it's top flaming as it watched them.

"There is no greater honor than fighting beside those I love,' she whispered, looking up into the faces around her.

Her brother's nodded, and both leaned down quickly to kiss the top of her head. She could feel the love and concern radiating out through their bond, both sending her strength. They were her to pillars, her rocks. She could not imagine life without them, and it pained her to know that they all might die here in this wasteland, far from anything green and good. There would be no time for songs when they perished, no time to mourn those who were lost, if they failed. There would only be fire and death, and the loss of hope.

"Let us not fight as if this will be our last,' said Glorfindel from beyond her brother's, 'But as if we shall be together for a long time to come, as friends."

"As family,' said Elladan.

"With hope close to our hearts,' continued Elrohir.

"Let the sun, and stars, and moon shine upon our next meeting,' she whispered, raising her chin.

The other's nodded before their attention was drawn back to Aragorn who seemed to be walking in a trance towards the enemy. Thennil held her breath as he stopped, turning and caught sight of Gandalf. What the wizard did, she would never know, but tears had gathered in her love's eyes, and his face grew sad and grim. The wind blew violently, and the sun which had climbed towards the South was veiled in the reeks of Mordor, and through a threatening haze it gleamed, remote, a sullen red, as if it were the ending of the day, or the end maybe of all the world of light. And out of the gathering mirk the Nazgul came with their cold voices crying words of death. But the men's hearts seemed to be shielded, and the cried did not frighten them as they looked at their king. Raising his sword, Aragorn ran forward towards their enemy, yelling a fierce battle cry.

There was a sudden silence, and no one moved. Then a sudden shout from the belly of their army, and they surged forward. They met the orcs swords swinging, yells matching in volume and passion. The orcs hindered by the mire that lay before the hills halted and poured their arrows into the defending ranks, and the men raised their shields. Thennil moved among them like a nymph through water, as if she had never been there. Her sword was like a needle, quick and precise as it wove through the ranks of their enemy, her eyes alight with a strange fire. They glowed like none had ever seen them, around her there seemed to be a bright golden light that lashed out at the orcs and men. Through the orcs came a great company of hill-trolls out of Gorgoroth. Taller and broader than Men were, and they were clad only in close-fitting mesh of horney scales, or maybe that was their hideous hide; but they bore round bucklers huge and black and wielded heavy hammers in their knotted hands. Reckless they sprang into the pools and waded across, bellowing as they came. It was like a storm they broke upon the line of men of Gondor, and beat upon helm and head, and arms and shield, as smiths hewing hot bending iron.

She watched as they came, and fought through the hordes of orcs, sword swinging. Her two brother's beside her, they took on the great beasts, leaping out of the way of their swinging clubs and round bucklers. Together they sliced at their enemies ankles, and midsection. They stabbed and slashed, sometimes one or both of them would jump upon the foul creatures back and stab down on its neck or head. Thennil could feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins, pumping faster and faster as they continued to fell the beasts together. She caught sight of Pippin stabbing upwards at one, standing over the body of one of the soldiers of Gondor, eyes blazing as his blade pierced through the hide and went deep into the troll, it's black blood gushing out all over him. The troll toppled forward and came crashing down like a falling rock, it missed the hobbit and the man by mere inches, to her great relief, but she rushed towards him, withdrawing one of her daggers from it's sheath, flinging it across the space. It twirled in the air, barely missing other things in it's path as it sped past the hobbit and thudded into the skull of an orc that had been sneaking up on him.

She did not hear the noise upon the wind, but before her Pippin looked up at the sky, raising his voice in awe. "The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!"

Looking up for a brief second, she sees that indeed, the eagles have come. She smiles, turning back to the battle raging around her. Perhaps they are not so alone as they seem. On and on they continue, and time ceases to exist as they continued to battle. Slowly they began to flounder, like a ship in a gathering sea. the sun gleamed red, and under the wings of the Nazgul the shadows of death fell dark upon the earth. Aragorn stood beneath his banner for a moment, silent and stern, as one lost in thought of things long past or far away; but his eyes gleamed like stars that shine the brighter as the night deepened. Upon the top of the hill stood Gandalf, and he was white and cold and no shadow fell on him. The onslaught of Mordor broke like waves on the beleaguered hills, voices roaring like a tide amid the wreck and crash of arms.

Looking to the north, Gandalf observed that the skies were pale and clear. Then he lifted up his hand and cried in a loud voice, such as the men had never heard before, his words ringing above the din to join in Pippin's shouts across the field: 'The Eagles are coming!"

And many a voice answered his shout, joining in like it was a chant. "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!' The hosts of Mordor looked up and wondered what this sight might mean for them.

There came Gwaihir the Windward, and Landroval his brother, greatest of all the Eagles of the North, mightiest of the descendants of old Thorondor, who built his eyries in the inaccessible peaks of the Encircling Mountains when Middle-earth was young. Behind them in a long swift lin came all their vassals from the northern mountains, speeding on a gathering wind. Straight down upon the Nazgul they bore, stooping suddenly out of the high airs, and the rush of their wide wings as they passed over were like great gales of wind, reminding the men of Dol Amroth of the winds of the storms upon the seas.

The Eagles seemed to bring them a renewed strength, though desperation was woven through it. She became separated from her brother's and the other elves, falling among the men as she fought. Her shield was ever upraised as she battled, fire in her eyes as she stabbed and parried, her battle cry loud and fierce. Together, she and a group of the men held together, battling through a thick throng of Orcs and Easterlings towards one of the commanders of their enemy. As one they slashed, hacked, and swung, clearing a path before them. Thennil let one of the young men be the one to land the killing blow, protecting their backs with her shield as arrows rained down upon them.

Her breath came in pants as she battled on, and as everything slowed down around her, she felt the adrenaline fade from her veins, and weariness seemed to swallow her. She persisted, thinking about every unfair situation that had ever befallen her to keep her angry as she battled, swinging her sword viciously, heart throbbing in her chest. Across the field she could hear the Captains of the West crying aloud, for their hearts were filled with a new hope in the midst of darkness. The Nazgul had turned tail and fled, vanishing into Mordor with the Eagles not far behind. A terrible scream came out from the Dark Tower; and even at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt clutching their hearts, their laughter failed, their hands shook and their limbs were loosed. The Power that drop them on and filled them with an unnatural hate and fun was wavering, its will was removed from them; and now looking in the eyes of their enemies they saw a deadly light and were afraid. And some angry.

Out from the beleaguered hills knights of Gondor, Riders of Rohan, and Dunedain of the North, close-serried companies, drove against their wavering foes, piercing the press with the thrust of bitter spears. But Gandalf lifted up his arms and called once more in a clear voice:

'Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom.'

And even as he spoke the earth rocked beneath their feet. The rising swiftly up, far above the Towers of the Black Gate, high above the mountains, a vast soaring darkness sprang into the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed, tottered, and fell down; the mighty rampart crumbled; the Black Gate was hurled in ruin; and from far away, now dim, now growing, now mounting to the clouds, there came a drumming rumble, a roar, a long echoing roll of ruinous noise.

The great tower of Sauron began to crumble before their eyes, toppling over into dust as the clouds rumbled overhead, a light dispersing out through them. Men paused in fighting, their enemies doing the same as all watched the tower fall. Some, more wise than their evil companions, rushed quickly from the battlefield, disappearing into the wastelands.

From among those still fighting a few voices could be heard, Merry's the loudest as he screamed for joy. 'Frodo! Frodo!"

"The realm of Sauron is ended!' cried Gandalf. 'The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest."

But their joy was tempered with sadness as all eyes were drawn to Mount Doom, the bright red of it's lava spitting for from it's summit. Tears came to her eyes as she watched the flaming projectiles issue from the mountain. Then she breathed out, her hand coming to her heart in shock.

The pain was gone. She blinked, searching her fea deeply, she turned her face towards the bright light that seemed to have blossomed around them. She laughed joyously. Her musical voice echoing over the vast battlefield. The darkness was gone, it had been swept away with the ending of the ring, and she thanked Frodo from the bottom of her heart. She was alive, and she was free. Her visions of death had been wrong, just as her Grandmother had said, not everything one sees comes to fruition, but is only a possibility. She could not contain her joy as she looked about her. Around her their enemy was fleeing, flying away from the power of Mordor as they scattered like dust to the wind. As when death smites the swollen brooding thing that inhabits their crawling hill and holds them all in sway, ants will wander witless and purposeless and then feebly die, so the creatures of Sauron, or or troll or beast spell-enslaved, ran hither and thither mindless; and some slew themselves, or cast themselves into pits, or fled wailing back to hide in holes and dark lightless places far from hope.

Looking across the field, she caught sight of her brother's, Glorfindel, and Aragorn joining together organizing a pursuit of their enemy that her heart grew with an even greater joy. They had escaped unscathed. Grouped around them were the other men, going in groups of thirty or more and pursuing their enemy. She stood, watching as Gandalf mounted up upon one of the eagles, flying south towards the fiery mountain while the other eagles flew on after him. There were a few men about her, and Legolas and Gimli along with the hobbits looking for the wounded, searching for those that were alive among their comrades.

It was as their enemy was fleeing and when her guard was down for but a moment. So engulfed in her joy was she that the heavy footsteps behind her had not registered, and she was yanked back by her hair violently. Twisting, she reached for her sword, but found that it was not there. In that second she searched frantically for it, screaming internally when she saw it lying a few feet from her. She struggled against the hold on her hair, fumbling for one of her daggers, she lifted it up and sliced it through the strands of her long hair. Whipping about she went to leap towards her sword, arm outstretched. She was yanked back, and her neck snapped like whip-lash as she was jerked around. She went to stab her opponent, screaming as the thing raised it's long dripping black sword. It held the junction between her neck and throat tightly, cutting off the circulation to her arm, to her hand that held the dagger.

It grinned, laughing maniacally. Behind her she could hear shouting as she struggled against the beast.

"The line ends with you!" It declared, she heard Aragorn scream her name as the blade plunged through her chest. She inhaled breath strangled, shuddering, eyes staring up into the face of her enemy as he laughed over her. She couldn't move, couldn't breath as she felt him yank the blade out of her chest. Kneeling there, she wavered eyes unseeing as her body tried to catch up to what had happened, then she slumped, limbs limp as she collapsed to the ground.

"Nooooooooo!' came the strangled scream of a man, before the body of the orc fell backwards, away from the limp form of the elf.

Aragorn rushed towards her, dropping to his knees beside her. "No, Thennil. No!"

She gasped, clenching her hand as she looked up at him. "Ar-Aragorn."

"Oh Thennil,' he gasped. 'Why-how-you should have stayed in Minas Tirith."

She inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering, 'People do crazy things, when they're in love."

He picked her up, holding her in his arms as he brushed her shorn hair out of her eyes. He ran his hand down her size, and stiffened when he saw the pool of blood forming on the ground beneath her. Gathering around the two, though at a short distance came Elladan and Elrohir, and the rest of their friends. Her two brother's leaned upon one another heavily as they looked her over, seeing the light flickering over her skin as her fea struggled to stay alive. There were tears falling from many eyes at the scene as Aragorn cradled her close to his chest. She was barely able to lift her hand to touch his face without shaking.

"You can't leave me,' he whispered.

"Life-she gasped- is never promised us, it is a gift that can be taken away at any time."

"We can still save you,' he insisted, looking up to the Elves around him, Glorfindel inpreticular, begging. The older elf had tears of his own in his eyes, trickling down his ageless face, and he shook his head. He turned to Legolas, 'There must be a way."

The elven prince offered him two empty hands, 'There is no way, not that I know of."

"No. No! NO!' cried Aragorn, clutching her closer to his as she gazed up into his weeping eyes. 'I can't-I can-

She groaned, 'You will never truly lose me, Aragorn,' she placed a hand upon his breast. 'I will always be here, in you heart."

"I-I love you,' he stated, shaking his head.

"A-a-and I you,' she whispered, a tear falling from her eye as he held her hand in his.

He bowed his head over her, tears slipping from his eyes as he closed them, listening to her faint heartbeat. She shuddered in his arms, head lolling against his shoulder, eyes glazed over.

"Aragorn?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about our victory, tell me what you see."

He raised his eyes, looking out over the field. "The sun is shining,' he began shakily. 'It's one of the brightest that I've ever seen. There aren't any flowers or anything green, but the sky is so blue, almost like what the ocean looks like when it is calm,' she hummed, breathing shallowly. 'There-there are birds, birds flying overhead, not crows or vultures, but song birds, and they are singing. The men, they have smiles on their faces, a new joy in their hearts,' he wept, voice becoming strangled. 'There is hope in their eyes."

"You are their hope, Estel,' she whispered breathily, relaxing in his arms. 'What else?"

"Though we fought hard, there are not many losses, and many will return to their families unharmed.' He smiled through his tears, 'We finally have peace. Real peace, and-' he looked down at Thennil, seeing her smiling. 'Thennil?" He shook her gently, before his heart began to pound in his breast. 'Thennil?'

He reached up to her throat trying to find a pulse with his bloody fingers, and when he was unable to he wept long and loudly, cradling her dead body in his arms. His body shook as his sobs racked his form, and those that watched were forced to turn away, so great was his sorrow. Even Eomer, who had nearly lost his sister, could not comprehend the great sorrow that his friend, his brother, was going through, though he had an inkling.

Elladan and Elrohir were not much better. Their own grief had gripped them moments before Aragorn's had, as they were able to feel their sister's fea depart from her body. They leaned on one another, their own sorrow bitter. Elladan wept angrily, glaring at the sky as if he could see right into the halls of the Valar, blaming them for her death. Those among his people that stood around him could feel it in their fea, so great was his anger, shrouded in sorrow. Elrohir wept as well, but his was not out of anger, but rather frustration. Their sister had always looked out for them, even when she had been miles away she had sent little messages tied to a birds leg or through other means, and now she was gone. He could barely look at her, lying in Aragorn's arms, smiling. At least she had not left the world with a look of pain etched on her features, he thought, but with a small amount of joy.

Merry and Pippin had plopped themselves down upon one of the stones, staring out over the rolling hills of the wasteland. Tears flowed down their innocent faces as memories flashed across their minds of their dear "Nelly". Pippin cried, having disposed of his helmet he buried his face in his hands, the tears making their way through his fingers as his curly head shook. He had been close to Thennil, and had enjoyed how seriously she had taken him, even if it had been something stupid. Merry's tears had only lasted a few moments as the shock of her death had set in, and he had become stone faced. They had seen so much death, experienced it up close, but it had always been someone that they weren't familiar with, excluding Boromir, whom they had known a few short months, but with Thennil it was even worse. They knew that Elves were not meant to die, but to live on forever, and seeing one slip away right before their eyes was inconceivable.

Aragorn steadied his breathing, feeling emotionally and physically spent as he held his love in his arms. The weariness from the long journey and all the fighting had finally caught up with him, and he felt like he had aged into an old man. Looking up, he was about to order a stretcher to be made so that they might carry Th- her body back to Minas Tirith; He couldn't even bare to think, nor say her name even aloud, when a strange think began to take place. A gentle breeze had begun to blow, swirling around them, causing Thennil's shorn wisps of hair to float around her face, almost like a halo. A small glow began to sparkle and shimmer around her as the breeze seemed to lift her from his arms like she weighed no more than a feather. Up into the air she rose, head lolled to one side as the golden dust seemed to encircle her. Many turned on the field to look at the sight, gasping in awe. The light became so bright that they had to shield their eyes with their hands as it grew, turning their faces away. When the light had dimmed, they turned back, and afterwards many said they had never seen a more amazing, nor sadly beautiful sight than that. For the warrior princess was much changed.

The armor and blood that she had worn were gone, and in it's place hovered a lady more beautiful than the sun, her short flaming hair swirling around her sleep-like face. Her clothes were long and airy, floating about her like the wind, and they were the color of the pales silver blue any of them had ever seen. The golden dust surrounded her, twisting and turning, engulfing her; things that looked like flames began to sprout up from where her feet hovered mere inches above the ground, consuming her before it burst into a thousand sparks blown away on the breeze. The golden dust swirled around Aragorn, and later he could have sworn that he heard his beloved's voice whispering in his ear. It whirled about the plain, twisting around the elves, comfortingly, then swirling about the hobbits before it took the form of what could have only been described as a flaming bird, shooting up into the clouded sky above them like a streak of golden light.

"A firebird,' whispered a few of the older fighters, watching it disappear into the sky.


	64. Chapter 61

**So, I decided to swap the order of my chapters and this is what happens to be next, hope you enjoy! Also, I did mix up the way things went in the book to suit my purposes, so don't hate. ;)**

Sam awoke with a start, and finding that he was laying on something soft blinked. Above him a gentle breeze blew through the cracked window. It swept the curtains back from around his bed, and he breathed deeply. All the air was full of a sweet mingled scent.

He remembered that smell: the fragrance of trees and flowers, and sunlight. "Bless me!' he mused, sitting up. 'How long have I been asleep?' For the scent had borne him back to the day when he had lit his little fire under the sunny bank; and for the moment all else was out of waking memory. He stretched and drew another deep breath. 'Why, what a dream I've had! he muttered. 'I am glad to wake!' He sat up, and then saw that he was not in his bed, and the room he had slumbered within was like nothing he had ever seen before. Throwing his legs over the side of the tall bed, he looked at his feet, and grimaced. The curly tuffs of hair that had once grown long were now burnt nearly to the skin, and the palms of his hands had bandages over them, and pealing them back, he saw blisters there.

Full memory flooded back, and he cried aloud: 'It wasn't a dream! Then where am I? And where is Master Frodo?"

A voice spoke softly behind him: 'You are in Minas Tirith, in the keeping of the King, and you have slumber here in the healing halls for nearly a week. Now come, he awaits you." With that Gandalf stood from the chair that he had placed at the hobbits bedside. Sam shook his head, looking over the wizards blinding white robes, his beard now gleaming like pure snow in the twinkling of the golden sunlight. 'Well, Master Samwise, how do you feel?" he asked.

Sam lay back, and stared with open mouth, for a moment, somewhere between bewilderment and great joy, he could not answer. At last he gasped: "Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What's happened to the world?"

"A great Shadow has departed,' said the wizard, though his voice held a hint of grief, but he laughed anyway, and the sound was like that of happy music, with a strain of sorrow, or like water in a parched land; and as he listened the thought came to Sam that he had not heard laughter, the pure sound of merriment, for days upon days without count. It fell upon his ears like the echo of all the joys he had ever known. But he himself burst into tears. Then, as a sweet rain will pass down a wind of spring and the sun will shine out the clearer, his tears ceased, and his laughter peeled up, and laughing he sprang from his bed.

"How do I feel?' he asked, bubbling with joy. 'Well, I don't know how to say it. I feel, I feel'- he waved his arms around in the air- "I feel like spring after winter, and sun on the leaves; and like trumpets and harps and all the songs I have ever heard!" He stopped his twirling, and turned to Gandalf.

"But how is Master Frodo? Where is he?' he asked, panic leaping into his eyes as he searched the room.

The wizard smiled, and motioned the hobbit to follow after him. Through the halls he led him, and up a short flight of stairs. Down a long hallway they went, and crossing another garden, they came to a doorway. Gandalf pushed on the door, and it swung open to reveal a bed much like Sam had been sleeping it. It rested under a large window, from which the same light breeze blew, and the sweet smell of spring was in the air.

Rushing to the bed, Sam looked over his master. Frodo lay still upon the bed, his chest rising and falling gently, and he looked more peaceful than Sam had ever seen him. The hobbit smiled happily before his eyes fell to his master's right hand, which lay upon the coverlet. It was bandaged, much as his own had been, but while Sam had all of his fingers, his master was missing the third finger of his hand.

His smile shrunk as he fingered the bedsheets. 'It's a shame about his poor hand. But I hope he's all right otherwise. He's had a cruel time."

Gandalf shook his head, having used one of Galadriel's techniques to find out a little information from the slumbering hobbits. "I wouldn't say that it was only him who endured the cruelness of the Ring, Sam. You carried your own weight, and more, so that his burden might be less."

Sam sighed, 'I wish I could have carried more, helped him more."

"There is no more noble occupation than helping a friend, and being that quiet strength that they lean upon when they can't seem to go on. That was you, Sam."

Sam stayed by Frodo's side, never daring to leave him. Gandalf finally convinced him to break away from the sleeping hobbit to eat and to meet his friends. It was a joyous occasion for the hobbits, or at least those that were awake. Merry and Pippin swarmed Sam, hugging him and pestering him with question after question before the plump hobbit finally had to have them sit down so that he could tell them everything that had happened to him. After he had finished his own story he turned to the other's.

"So, where is everyone?" He asked.

Merry and Pippin were silent, and he sensed that something bad had happened.

"Where are Legolas? And Gimli? How is Aragorn? What about Boromir and Thennil?"

Pippin sighed tearily, wiping away at the drops that threatened to escape his eyes. "Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn are well."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Merry sniffed, rubbing at his nose. 'They didn't make it, Sam."

Sam cocked his head. "Didn't make it? What happened?"

"Boromir fell when you and Frodo left the company, which was when we were captured by orcs,' stated Pippin, shivering.

"From there we nearly died, if the Rohirrim hadn't come and slaughtered them, and we escaped into Fangorn Forest."

"Yes! We met jolly ol' Treebeard there,' commented Pippin.

"And Thennil?" asked the chubby hobbit. Though he had always stayed close to his master, the she-elf had found a place in his heart to nest.

"She-she- Pippin couldn't continue as the tears and sobs overwhelmed him.

Sam's own eyes began to grow wet.

"An Orc got her, Sam, right after we won our Victory at the Black Gate,' whispered Merry. 'Plunged his nasty blade right through her heart."

"No!' cried the halfling, his mind running a hundred miles a minute. It skittered to a stop as a new thought entered his mind. 'What about Strider?"

"The King is dealing with his grief as best as he can,' said Gandalf from behind the group. The three hobbits twisted around to look at the wizard, who looked older. 'He has thrown himself into rebuilding and orchestrating his coronation."

Sam looked up with teary, questioning eyes.

The wizard sighed, 'They confessed their love before her death, though I think that might have made this harder on Aragorn."

Sam nodded. "She didn't deserve to die."

"Dying is like the ocean,' said Gandalf, looking out of the arches towards the sea. 'Sometimes the tide comes in slowly, gently, with soft delicate waves quietly working in the background. Other days, the waves come crashing in exploding upon the seashore, demanding to be noticed. She held her life in her hands, brilliant as a star, fragile as a flower, but it was snatched from her hands, ripped away from her without a chance to save it."

Sam sighed, and leaned up against the ledge overlooking the city. He had only ever had fleeting moments of inspiration for songs, but the tragicness of Aragorn and Thennil's love seemed to strike a cord in his heart, and from his lips leapt this song:

"Love

Seems like only yesterday,

that you were just a child at play,

Now you're all grown up inside of me,

Oh, how fast those moments flee,

Once we watched a lazy world go by,

Now the days seem to fly,

Life is brief, but when it's gone,

Love goes on and on,

Love will live,

Love will last,

Love goes on and on and on,

Once we watched a lazy world go by,

Now the days seem to fly,

Life is brief, but when it's gone,

Love still goes on and on."

A few days more passed, and Sam grew in strength and health. He spent some of his time with his friends, but more often than not he could be found sitting beside his best friends bed, watching him slumber peacefully. Many times he would fall asleep against the soft covers of Frodo's bed, exhausting himself as he tried to stay awake and watch over his friend. Gandalf and Aragorn did not speak of it, but they were beginning to grow worried with how long the hobbit slept, as they had seen the resilience of their little friends time and time again, but Sam stood strong in his belief that "Master Frodo is going to pull through, he's a strong hobbit, like his uncle."

Though Aragorn checked up on the Ringerbearer when he could, he was pulled away by the builders, the councilors, and many others as they organized and continued to bring the city back to it's normal state. Gimli had sent letters to the Lonely Mountain requesting stone masons, and builders, and carpenters to help repair the city, and word had been sent back saying that a group would be on their way within a fortnight, hopefully reaching the White City long before the crowning of the King.

Standing in what had once been the stewards study, which had originally been the kings study long ago, Aragorn looked over the drawings that Lothloriel and her aunt along with a few of the other older noblewomen had put together. Lothloriel, mute though she was, was a brilliant organizer when it came to events, and with the knowledge of the older women, had put together a coronation that would make even an ElvenKing proud. He studied the layout of the court, where each person would sit, which was designated by rank and age, and so on. Most of the decorations would be done with flowers from the fields outside of Minas Tirith, but a majority of them would come from the girl's garden, which was the largest in the city. The noblewomen also would contribute long silk curtains to hand from the ceilings to that they draped down along the edges of the feasting hall. Great chandeliers hung with a thousand candles would light the hall with their soft glow. It would be a sight to behold.

He stretched, reaching his arms high above his head, hearing popping in his lower back. Rolling his shoulders, he felt how tense the muscles around his neck were, and massaged them with his fingertips. He groaned, finding that he did not have quite the right angle to penetrate where the ache was the worse, and settled for rolling his head from side to side. When he had finally loosened his tight muscles, he slipped out of the chamber and began to wander down the halls. Nothing was present in his mind as he followed the passages as they twisted and turned, walking up and down stairs, exiting through tall arches into small garden's or suspended walkways as he looked down on the training ground below where the new recruits or seasoned soldiers practiced, the clanging of steel and the thumbing of arrows into targets echoing in his ears. He wound his way through the palace, end to end, before walking past what at one time had been the Queen's Suite. He had not explored this place, had not had the courage to even take a peek into the rooms to see what they looked like. He stopped before the entry door to the suite, hand suspended over the ornate door handle. He stood there frozen, mind and body warring against one another as he tried to decide wither or not to turn the handle. Finally coming to a decision, he steeled himself, and turned the handle.

The door seemed to swing open on its own.

He crept into the room, almost feeling like he was intruding as he stepped lightly on his feet. Turing round and round, he was amazed at how clean the room was. Here, in what would be the queens receiving room, there were chairs and small side tables scattered around the room with a few couches grouped together before the large windows that let a large amount of light into the room. He wandered further into the room, which though it was relatively small compared to the rooms in his own suite, was still large in comparison to any room he had see within either Rivendell, Rohan, or Lothlorien. He walked in further, and opening another door, slipped into a small hallway. Here he also found many windows, and along the left side there were two doors. At the end of the hallway, was one large, double door. He decided to start in the first room.

Opening this door, he found himself in a parlor room of sorts, there were no windows on the ground level, but in the ceiling above were many sky-lights that let in the sunlight. These sky-lights were organized on a pulley system which could be accessed in a small alcove hidden in one of the walls. Here, again there were many chairs, couches, and tables, but these were more homey, clustered together around the fireplace which took up almost one whole wall of the room. Alone the edges of the room there were few picture, but many light murals in various lighter colors, cream, a pale green, and something in-between a sky or indigo blue painted together in a swirling, air-like fashion. The furniture in this room was in a light wood, with lighter accents, with a large carpet covering the wood floor. It was simple, yet comfortable.

Exiting from that room, he wandered through the connecting door into what must have been a combination of a personal study, library, and sitting room all at once. It was not overly crowded, but the walls were lined with bookshelves, and nooks and crannies of every sort. In this room their were windows, and looking through them he saw that they looked out into the small garden between his rooms and those of the guest rooms across the way. A large desk sat at one end of the room, nearest the window, from which most of the light in the room came from. The color scheme in this room was similar to the parlor before, in soft creams, blues, and greens. There was more woodwork in this room, and he felt somewhat jealous of it, his own study being mostly marble and stone, with very little wood to be found.

The final room before what he knew to be the Queens chambers was a sunroom, which exited out into the shared garden. There were many windows in this room, and skylights lining the ceiling. It was more round in shape than the other rooms, which had been for the most part rectangular, and there was more open space here, with only a few chairs and side table on one side, and a small table at the other. He guessed that this must also double as the dining room for the queen and her maidens as he ran his hand over the chair back. The walls arched up into a beautiful dome, which resembled a flower in it's shape, petals unfurled.

He looked between the two doors, deciding if he wanted to enter the Queens bedchambers through the side door, or through the main entrance. Deciding that he would rather see it straight on, he exited out into the hallway and stood before the grand door. He marveled at the elven influence in the carving of the door, the gentle curves of the branches above the mantle, and the detail of the leaves that seemed to move like a breeze was passing through them. Throwing open the doors he found that this room was just as large as the others, and at it's center was a medium bed. It was fluffed and ready to go, a warm comforter of a deep navy blue unfolded just a little, as if waiting for it's occupant to slip their feet under the covers. On one side of the room was a delicate dressing table, the mirror reflecting the light from the windows. He slipped through the doorway on the further side, and instant wished he had not.

It was the nursery.

There were many windows in this room also, and it was rounded. A rocking chair sat before the window, which looked out onto the queen's garden. A plush cushion lay upon, and small carpet rested on the floor before it. There were a few dressers, and even a small walk-in closet set into one wall. But what drew him to his knees was a small cradle. He knelt before it and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. A soft blanket had been draped across it, as if waitingWh to wrap some child in it's comforting warmth. He gripped the spooks and wept, laying his head down on his arm as he thought of his beloved.

Thennil had always loved children of any kind. He had seen how she reacted to them on their travels together. She had cooed and aww'd and baby-talked to them, cuddling and loving them with the brightest smile on her face. He knew that she would have made a marvelous mother, and when she had told him that she would become his, he had had an image of a child leap into his mind when he had seen her surrounded by the children in Rohan. A darling little babe with her large sapphire blue eyes and curly hair, laughing in his arms. He ached, deep in his chest, clutching at the blanket with one hand.

If only he had been able to get to her on time. If only he had been able to protect her better. If only she hadn't been distracted. If only she had stayed here in Minas Tirith, away from the danger. If only, if only, if only.

Their dreams had slipped through their fingers like sand, slowly filtering away. Like a flower wilting before it has even bloomed, doomed to end before it even had the chance to start. He wondered if fate had it out for him. First his father was killed, then his mother seemed to fade away once he was grown and ready to face the world, slowly, one by one his kinsmen among his people seemed to snatched away; and to top it all off, the one whom he loved, who he had shared his heart, and his body with, had been sea tched away in an instant.

"What have I done wrong?' he cried out. 'What did I do to deserve this?"

He stood, walking towards the door which led out into another hallway, the small blanket still in hand as he angrily stomped into the Queen's private gardens. He stared up at the sky, anger growing.

"Why are you doing this to me?' he yelled at the sky. 'Do you hear me? Any kindness you seem to take away. You gave me this kingdom. This responsibility. You made me this hope. Some hope. Maybe I look like that to other people, but me? I have no hope! You took it all away!"

He shook his fist at the sky, walking forward without looking where he was going. He walked past a small tree, snapping it off at the ground, but didn't even notice it as he continued to rant.

"I thought I did what was right. I thought I had the answers." he threw the blanket to the ground, before turning away, wiping the tears from his eyes. His whole body shook as his grief raged through him, anger evaporating as words of his beloved and his friends filtered through his mind.

 _All we have to do, is decide what to do with the time given us._

 _I love you._

 _The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps the greater._

 _You have been my hope, when I was hopeless._

 _Some believe it is only Great Power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I have found that it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love._

 _You can only control so much, in the end, it is all up to fate._

 _The greatest gift I have ever received, is the love that you hold for me. It is worth far above any earthly treasure to be found, because it comes from your heart._

 _There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept. Things we don't want to know that we have to learn, and people we have to live without, that we have to let go._

The tears slowed from a downpour to a trickle as he stared down at his hands. Glancing up, he was shocked to see the small tree laying on it's side, some of it's delicate branches snapped off and others bending nearly too far. Kneeling down, he gently settled it back into's it's place. He quickly found a stick to steady it, and tore a piece from the blanket and tied it around the tree. Hurrying to the fountain bubbling up in the center of the garden, he retrieved a bucket of water and gently let it flow over the plants roots and trunk. As he did so, he whispered a few words in Sindarin over it. It one had looked close enough they might have saw a few golden flecks of dust settle around the dirt next to the plant.

 _You're in my arms,_

 _And all the world is gone._

 _The music playing just for two._

 _So close together,_

 _And when I was with you,_

 _so close to feeling alive._

Aragorn stood before the tailors, still as a statue as he waited for them to finish up the few adjustments on his coronation tunic and cape. He tries not to fidget as they continue to poke pins here, and adjust the length of the train on the cape. He looks across the room at the painting upon the wall, a picture of the last king before his reign standing regally with his wife. He sees strength in their poise, shoulders back, and gentle smiles on their faces as they looked down from the picture. He remembered back to the few pictures that he had seen of her and her family, mother included, hanging in her father's study, a smaller version sitting on her armoire within her bedroom. They had all looked happy, though none of them were smiling in the painting, joy and contentment seemed to radiate from them, their eyes filled with light.

 _As life went by,_

 _Romantic dreams did start,_

 _So now I'll bid mine goodbye and never knew_

 _So close was waiting, waiting here with you_

 _And now_

 _Forever I know_

 _All I want it to hold you_

 _so close_

Aragorn grinned as Frodo and Sam stood before the soldiers on the fields of the Pelinnor, listening to the men shout and shake their spears as they spoke in unison.

'Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!

Cuio i Pheriain anann! Aglar'ni Pheriannath!

Praise them with great praise, Frodo and Samwise!

Duar a Berhael, Conin en Annun! Eglerio!

Praise them!

Eglerio!

A laita te, laita te! Andave laituvalmet!

Praise them!

Cormacolindor, a laita tarienna!

Praise them! The Ring-bearers, praise them with great praise!"

The hobbits blushed so red it looked as if their faces were on fire, and their eyes were shining in wonder. They were even more surprised when they came to three high-seats built of green turves. Behind the seat upon the right floated, white on green, a great horse running free; upon the left was a banner, silver upon blue, a ship swan-prosed fairing on the sea; but behind the highest throne in the midst of all a great standard was spread in the breeze, and there a white tree flowered upon a sable field beneath a shining crown and seven glittering stars. On the throne sat a mail-clad man, a great sword was laid across his knees, but he wore no helm. As they drew near he rose. And then they knew him, changed as he was, so high and glad of face, though with a hint of sorrow hidden in his deep eyes, kingly, lord of Men, dark-haired with eyes of silvery blue.

Frodo ran to meet him, and Sam followed close behind.

"Well, if this isn't the crown of all!' he said. 'Strider, or I'm still asleep!"

"Yes, Sam, Strider,' said Aragorn. 'It is a long way, is it not, from Bree, where you did not like the look of me? A long way for us all, but yours has been the darkest road."

Sam shook his head, 'Sometimes I think that, and then I remember what all you have lost, and I grieve with you."

Aragorn nodded, bowing his head, and clenching the hobbit shoulder with his large hands.

 _So close to reaching that famous happy ending_

 _Almost believing that this one's not pretend_

 _And that you're beside me, looking at how far we've come_

 _So far, we are, yet so close._

As they sat together on the fields of the Pelennor, Aragorn and Eomer enjoying the last few weeks of "freedom" before taking up their kingships. And when many more glad shouts had swelled up and died away, to Sam's final and complete satisfaction and pure joy, a minstrel or Gondor stood forth, and knelt, and begged leave to sing. And behold! he said:

"Lo! lord and knights and men of valor unashamed, kings and princes, and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and ye sons of Elrond, and Dunedain of the North, and Elves and Dwarf, and greathearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom, and those that went with him."

And when Sam heard that he laughed aloud for sheer delight, and he stood up and cried: 'O great glory and splendor! And all my wishes have nearly come true!" then he wept.

And all the host laughed and wept, and in the mist of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sand to them, now in the elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flowed together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

And at last, as the Sun fell from the noon and the shadows of the City and boulders lengthened, he ended. "Praise them with great praise!" he said, and knelt. And then Aragorn stood up, and all the host arose, and they passed to pavilions made ready, to eat and drink and make merry while the day lasted.

Frodo and Sam were led apart and brought to a tent, and their older clothes were taken off, but folded and set aside with honour; and clean linen was given them, sew by the hands of the Princess of Dol Amroth and her group of friends. Then Gandalf came and in his arms, to the wonder of Frodo, he bore the sword and the elven cloak and the mithril-coat of filled mail, and his elven-cloak all healed of the soils and hurts that it had suffered; and then he laid before them two swords.

"I do not wish for any sword,' said Frodo.

"Tonight at least you should wear one,' said Gandalf.

Then Frodo took the small sword that had belonged to Sam, and had been laid at his side in Cirith Ungol. 'Sting I gave to you Sam,' he said.

"No, master! Mr. Bilbo gave it to you, and it goes with his silver coat; he would not wish anyone else to wear it now."

Frodo gave way; and Gandalf, as if he were their esquire, knelt and girt the sword-belts about them, and then rising he set circlets of silver upon their heads. And when they were arrayed they went to the feast; and they sat at the King's table with Gandalf, and King Eomer of Rohan, and Prince Imrahil with his sons, his daughter sitting beside Eowyn next to Faramir, and all the chief captains; and there also were Gimli and Legolas. But next to Aragorn, a single chair of the most delicate make sat, with dishes resting upon the table, empty but for a single cushion and a sword laying across the seat in it's sheath. Ever and anon they wished to honor the memory of their dear Lady _Collgailnaur,_ their Bright Golden Flame.

But when, after the Standing Silence, wine was brought there came in two esquires to serve the kings; or so they seemed to be: one was clad in the silver and sable of the Guards of Minas Tirith, and the other in white and green. But Sam wondered what such young boys were doing in an army of mighty men. Then suddenly as they drew near he could see them plainly, he exclaimed:

"Why, look Mr. Frodo! Look here! Well, if it isn't Pippin. Mr. Peregrin Took I should say, and Mr. Merry! Whoever did you not tell me of this? And why have I not noticed how much you have grown! Bless me! But I can see there's more tales to tell than what you told me!"

"There are indeed,' said Pippin turning towards him with a mischievous smirk, which he wiped off his face when Gandalf looked his way. 'And we'll begin telling them, as soon as this feast is ended. In the meantime you can try Gandalf. He's not so close as he used to be, though he laughs now more than he talks. For the present Merry and I are busy. We are knights of the City and of the Mark, as I hope you observe."

Sam and Frodo shook their heads in amazement, seeing these two troublemakers working alongside the other serving staff that fed the group.

 _Oh, how can I face the faceless days_

 _Now that I have lost you?_

 _We were so close_

 _To reaching that famous happy ending_

 _Almost believing this one's not pretend_

 _I wish I could go on dreaming with you really here_

 _Because_

 _We were so close_

 _So close_

 _And still so far._

 **Please Review and let me know what you thought, it helps me to keep being motivated to write.**

 **Robin**


	65. Chapter 62

Sulimo walked through his halls, and those that were connected to the other dwellings of his friends. His long robes swept around him as he enjoyed the soft light that seemed to float around him. For a long while he had been sitting at his desk, but had slowly become restless, and had resorted to walking the halls and passageways between the many dwellings of his House. He had been walking for a long time, thinking and pondering, and sometimes singing songs of life into the world across the sea, when he felt...disturbed, more so than previously.

Now, Sulimo was not prone to flights of fancy or panic, but was rather a calming force to behold. He had had a feeling of foreboding for a long time now, a long time being endless, as in this place time was not measured as we measure it, counting the passing of days, hours, and minutes. Time had no meaning here in this place, it just was. And so he continued on, working his way around his garden thinking, and sometimes studying the flowers and plants, but he could not shake the feeling that had crept up into his heart. As morning turned to afternoon in that place, the feeling grew stronger, and he was so filled with dread that he did not hear the footsteps of his friend behind him.

"What is it, my friend?' he asked, curious at the face that his friend was making. 'What troubles you?"

"I do not know,' said Sulimo, turning to look up at his friend, Ulmo, who though his dwelling was among them, enjoyed walking and living beside the sea. 'An odd sense of foreboding has hung over me like a cloud continually all day, and seems to have been building for a long time. I cannot seem to shake it."

"That is strange,' Ulmo said, stroking his chin. 'Has your wife perhaps done something that she did not want you to know?"

Sulimo shook his head, 'She does not often hide things from me, and this is not similar to that feeling when she does end up doing something."

"Then perhaps you are just bored,' chuckled his friend, slapping him on the back. 'It has been a long time since you have travelled far from your garden, my friend."

Sulimo rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Ulmo was constantly saying that he was continually tending his garden, and did not get out enough. He was sure that his friend merely wanted him to come enjoy his ocean with him, or rather hear him boast about it's color and depth and tell about the storms that had passed upon the lands. Ulmo loved his oceans, any body of water really, but he was most proud of his seas. Half the time the only person that could get him to shut up about it was his wife, Etse.

"Walk with me,' he said, motioning to his friend. Ulmo followed after him patiently, looking at the ornate tapestries that hung on the walls all over the place. Each one had been woven by Gwir, who sat at her loom hours on end weaving and sewing her tapestries depicting Time. They were all extremely detailed down to the last hair on each forms head to the shine of the sun upon the drops of water falling from a dew-covered leaf. She was quite the artist, and though many of the things she wove in Time caused her to weep sorrowfully from time to time, she still continued without failing. It was this sound greeted the ears of Sulimo and Ulmo, her great weeping. Hurrying forward, and entering the halls of Namo, they found her before her loom, weaving without ceasing while large tears fell from her eyes. She had wept many times in their long lives, only two instances before had they heard her cry such as this.

"Gwir, lady, why do you weep?' Asked Sulimo, filled with concern.

She shook her head sorrowfully, her hands continuing to move over the threads as she wove dark colored thread through the continuous tapestry. So great was her sorrow that she could not speak, only shake as her fingers pushed the shuttle through the threads above the shaft bars. Back and forth it went, stopping at one time or another as she hand wove a few new colors into the fabric. She caressed the face that she had depicted lovingly, and looked up at her friend with wet eyes, and he gasped.

"Please, please tell me that is not who I think it is,' he whispered, knowing the answer in his heart.

"It is our dear Naurfileg, our Gilglan,' she cried, wiping the tears from her eye as she paused in her weaving.

Then bursting through the door, shrouded in shadows and mist came her husband, Numo. His eyes were filled with panic, and grief as he looked about him, then to his weeping wife. Hurrying to her side, he wiped her tears with his long pale finger, kissing her cheek lovingly before turning back to look at his friends.

"Sulimo, you must come quickly!' the Keeper of the Dead begged. 'They are coming, and so quickly!"

Ulmo cocked his head in confusion, following after his friend as he disappeared down his dark halls, mist swirling around him. 'Whatever do you mean? What's happening?"

Sulimo shook his head as he hurried along behind Namo, a gut feeling that all was not well in his brother's halls. They passed by the tall arches of dark stone, the white light of the pool in the center of the dark palace lighting it dimly.

"Many great battles have taken place in Middle earth,' stated the Keeper, passing through one hallway into the next and turning to walk up a flight of stairs in a hurry. 'Dwarves, Men, and Elves have been appearing in my Halls in great numbers, such as I have not seen since the Dwarves took back their mountain, the number continues to grow larger and larger and I am concerned."

"I noticed that your wife could not keep pace with her weaving, as her sorrow seemed to overwhelm her,' stated Sulimo.

The Keeper nodded sadly, but continued along.

"Have you questioned any of the new spirits? I know that many of them are separated to their own halls and rooms, surely you have been able to stop to ask one of them?"

"Nay, I have not been able to, so consistently have they come, I have been directing them as much as possible, with the help of some of those spirits who have been here a long time,' insisted Namo seriously. 'Do you think that I have not tried? There hasn't been a moments rest."

"War's have been fought in Middle earth before, just as you said,' Ulmo reminded his friend, 'Why is this one so different?"

"I sense that there was a great evil that has been vanquished, though at this moment I am not sure what."

The two friends looked at one another, shrugging there shoulders. Together they followed Namo as he entered the hall where the newly dead were received, their spirits guided to a resting place among the many others. Sulimo had visited the many halls where the dead resided, and in reality they were not really halls, but each one was like a deep pool with the spirits of those who had perished rested together, swirling around in a bluish colored liquid that glowed with a white light or sitting together in a garden. It was different with each Race, the dwarves spirits were awake and alert, the Men's were taken to a place where Namo would judge them before sending them off, and the Elves more often than not slept peacefully together, their fea's taking peace from one another. Most of the Dwarves were escorted to the Forge of their creator, a place that had soft light, like that of a coal furnace, bouncing off the walls. Many of the Elves' spirits had been enlisted to welcome and guide those new to the halls to where they belonged, slowly tallying those who entered the halls in their minds.

"NO!"

A great wail went up among all the Men and Dwarves in the area, but the greatest and loudest came from the Elves. Their voices, like silvery bells or melodious harps grew louder as their musical wails filled the hall. Many of the spirits fell to their knees, hands covering their eyes and the tears that fell from them. Even dead, they sounded like the living in their grief.

Their before them, laying upon the dark velvet of a stone couch, was their most beloved Lady. Robed in a gown of what could only be likened to something like the wind and sea had woven together into an air-like fabric that seemed to waterfall over the edge of the settle, he pale form rested like she was in a deep sleep. Her golden red locks were strewn about her like a long cape. Her eyes were closed as she seemed to float there, arm dangling over the edge of the pallet elegantly. It looked like she was slumbering.

Sulimo's eyebrows were nearly in his hair-line as he observed the great sorrow before him, and knew for certain that the thing Gwir wept over was true.

"Eru be merciful,' whispered Ulmo, recognizing the prone form lying before his very eyes.

"It would see that it is too late for that plea,' stated an old Dwarf, kneeling beside another one who had asked to be of use. His beard was long and white, coming to two tips in front of him. The younger lad, though when he had died Ulmo was sure that he had been much older, wiped a tear from his eye with a knit covered hand.

Sulimo nodded, and turned to his friends, 'Namo, do not release her into the halls until I give you leave. Ulmo, go to my wife, she is undoubtably with your own, and Vana. Do whatever you must to keep them from the Halls of Waiting."

Ulmo shook his head sadly, 'Sulimo, surly by now she knows what has come to pass, along with Aule, who loved this maiden dearly for her mercy and love towards his creations. You know how closely they both follow the lives of their creations and chosen ones."

"That is precisely why I desire that they not discover that their favorite Lady has perished before her time, you know that she is a favorite shared between the two.' Sulimo countered. 'I must meditate on these events, and look in on the happenings of Middle earth before going before Eru to plead for an audience if Namo can do nothing. I fear we have been blinded by a great evil."

Thennil woke slowly, as if she were dreaming. For indeed, she was sure that she was. The place within which she lay looked oddly familiar, and she was sure she had seen it before. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes, and looked about. Then blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. She rubbed her eyes again, and blinked harder. She had to be seeing things, obviously, but it was so strange. She shook her head, examining the room about her. She could see, with both eyes. Swiftly, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and looked down from the towering pillars around her. She gasped, seeing all the beings walking to and for, many of them watching her with tears in their eyes.

She had to be dreaming. Yes, she was definitely was dreaming.

"A dark day has fallen,' said a voice to her left. 'When our Lady of Dawn joins those who dwell in the night."

Turning, she observed one of the fairest youth's she had ever seen among her people standing near her. She looked him over before choking, the breath snatched from her throat.

"Terence?" she asked in horror. Here was one of the youth's whom she had lost during the battle with the Witch King of Angmar long ago. She couldn't believe it, covering her gasp.

He smiled weakly. "It is I."

"How? You're d-d-

"Dead?' he chuckled tearily. 'Yes."

She was quiet for a few moments, reality setting in. 'So...it seems that I am...dead also?"

He nodded.

It took her but a moment for the memories all came rushing back, the pain, the evil grin of the Orc as he plunged the sword through her body; lying in Aragon's arms as he wept over her-she put the breaks on, stiffening as tears threatened to spill over. She sniffed, and stood to her feet. Looking down at her body, she realized that she was somewhat transparent, not quite see-through, and yet not quite a solid either. Her hand was unable to go through her body, but it was still strange to be able to see through her own body, see the shadows along the floor. She looked up at him, and saw that he was much the same as she.

"Welcome to my Halls, young one,' a deep voice spoke, and she turned.

Blinking, she tried to comprehend what she was seeing with her eyes. Towering over all in vicinity was a man, if he could be called that. He was tall, and thin, though she could see that his slenderness belied his strength. Clothed in dark velvets and wearing hood over his face, which was of a darkish tone. His hair was long like an elf's, straight, and whiter than any lauder in Middle earth could whiten.

"Though I feel it is to soon for you to have joined me, if at all,' he stated.

"Mandos?' she asked curiously from her spot on the ground.

He nodded.

She shook, overwhelmed with emotions as she looked about her. Unable to bear looking at those departed any longer, she rushed away from him.

Her grief was to great, to fresh, to be around her kin who had gone before her. Through the many halls she ran, or rather stumbled, blinded by the tears that escaped from her eyes. She did not know where she ran to or what the purpose of it was, but it was what her grieving heart seemed to need at that moment. She fell to her knees before a great pool, one that shone with a white light, that lite the halls. She could not withhold her grief as she wept long and loud, weeping for the life she had lost, the man she had loved, the people who she had come to care for. She wept for her Ada, left alone with her three siblings, knowing that his grief would know no bounds once he received the news of her death, if he had not felt it within the link that they shared as father and daughter. Her brother's would be filled with anger, she had no doubt, and would undoubtably spend their time tracking down every last Orc that had issued from the mouth of Mordor. Tears fell as she thought of Arwen, her little Arwen, so innocent and young, and yet so mature. She cried over her nieces and nephews, her dear Mariam's children, of whom she had not been able to say good-bye to.

There were no breezes that flowed through Mandos' halls, but still the air seemed to move and flow around her. To her ears it was like a music that she had never heard, and would continue to hear until her time was completed within the house of the dead. She did not know how long she would remain, perhaps an Age, or even unto the end of the World, she couldn't tell.

"Oh, Mandos,' she wept, voice musical.

"I have come to your halls-

She sniffed, looking up into the sky which shone through the great circle cut out of the roof of the citadel.

"Long has been my journey,

And far have I wandered,

But now I kneel here in your home,

as grief my spirit calls.

I gave my heart unto a Man

Named Aragorn,

And I plead with you,

Please let me wait for him here,

before you judges his life,

and he leaves this sphere.

Here my cry of Manwe, Mandos, Eru,

Give ear to my cry,

For with a broken heart,

Lost in my sorrow,

I come before you to beg,

I beg you to shine your favor upon my lover's face,

Be his Guide, guide his steps,

For no longer shall I walk with him,

This man of whom I speak,

has given me something I hold most dear.

My heart I entrusted him,

to hold with love so pure.

And in return I captured his own,

which he freely gave,

Now I know the love he held for me.

I have done many deeds,

and my heart bleeds,

to know that I have left him in pain.

Please tell me that I may stay,

and wait for him on that day,

to see my love once more,

for that would be too cruel a fate,

to be separated in our state.

I beg you, give us a little time,

to speak and bid each other our last farewell,

and remember all the times we shared,

so such joy could quell.

For never was their greater love, nor sacrifice,

Than that within our hearts,

Once born, forever binding us,

Even though death may part us,

and we never get to live as one,

thank Eru for the life we were given,

for our love knows now end,

it transcends death,

and hope blooms anew."

She had not even realized she had begun to sing, but the words had flown out of her mouth, and into the air they had sprung. And so her song echoed through the halls, and all the heard it wept with her, Valar present not excluded.

In her Garden, which was across from Aule's Forge, sat Varda, conversing with her dear friends. Ulmo had joined them not long ago, and she was sure that something was amiss, seeing as he seemed to be asking more questions about what they had done together while he was away. This was not normal behavior at all for her husbands friend, and she was sure he was up to something. He had even pulled Aule away from his forge, who had been conversing with a few dwarves who had been brought to his halls that very morn. She could see the suspicion in her friend's eyes as Ulmo continued to ask question after question of the Smith. He continually asked after the dwarves, and what they were working on, while popping into the Ladies conversation ever other sentence.

From Aule, and the elderly dwarf who had brought the new arrivals, she had gathered that there had been a great battle going on over different parts of Middle earth, and had grown curious. She had sent one of her handmaidens, a few human and elf spirits, to inquire after what had happened, and had learned that those who guided the dead to the halls were expecting more to arrive as the day progressed. Something was amiss in Middle earth, and she was going to figure out what it was.

It was then that Ulmo had come, pestering her and the other ladies with numerous questions that he already knew the answer to. She had quickly sensed that there was a purpose to his visit, not like when he would come and speak with them before, boasting about his seas and rivers; but decorum demanded that she listen to his rather ridiculous questions and for Aule to show him about the forge for the thousandth time. When Aule's wife entered the garden, Varda quickly snagged her, and began to whisper conspiratorially in her ear.

"Yvanna, my dear, would you do me a huge favor?" she asked, eyeing Ulmo.

"Of course, Varda, whatever is it that you wish me to do?"

"Well,' began the Queen of the Valar. 'Elmo is being rather suspicious. He has come and started asking us questions, and talking to Aule about the forge..."

The Lady's eyes grew wide, 'Ulmo?"

"Hmmm,' hummed the Queen. 'He is hiding something, and I wish to know what it is."

Yvanna raised her eyebrow, then winked cheekily. 'Certainly, my dear, do come tell me what you find out."

Aule caught her eye when she nodded to him, and he smiled at his wife as she walked up to Ulmo and began to ask him questions about his seas, which instantly distracted him. Together, the Queen of the stars, and the Smith hurried along the hallways, curiosity growing as they reached the Halls of Mandos. They came upon Gwir crying as she wove her cloth, but did not stop to ask questions as they hurried through the open door and into the Halls of Waiting. They hurried though the passages and up stairs until they came to the room where a quite few of the dead were sitting and talking. Their attention was immediately drawn by a voice speaking near them.

"Look! It is our maker!'

Turning Aule found himself staring down at a group of dwarves. Many of them were older, but there were a few youths among them who couldn't have been more than a hundred years old. It grieved him that they had been snatched away from their world so young, having never really lived.

Varda was drawn to the large number of Elves and Men walking through the hall, and her eyes began to search their faces. When she did not see the one she sought, she gave a sigh of relief before turning to look at find a stricken Mandos standing before her. She could tell that it was not her presence that had caused such a look to hall over his features, but something that had happened long ago drew to the forefront of her mind. Her friend had never been overly empathetic, though he loved all who came through his halls, there had been only a few times that she had seen such a look upon his face, and seeing it now puzzled her.

But before she could speak, the Keeper of the Dead beat her to it. "What are you doing here, Sister?"

She raised an eyebrow, 'What am I doing here? Am I not allowed to enter your halls, Mandos?"

He cringed, 'No..."

She shook her head,'Forgive my snappishness Mandos, I am merely curious about what has been happening here. I saw quite a few dwarves entering Aule's forges and I was wonder what was the cause."

Mandos sighed, running his hand through his long black hair. From the shadows, an elderly dwarf stepped, a shorter one with knitting needles trailing along not far behind.

"Forgive me, my lord, I did bring a few groups to the forge before Manwe's orders, it was not my intention to disobey,' stated the old dwarf.

Her eyebrow rose higher, 'My husband ordered that the dead not be guided to their halls?"

Again, another cringe from Mandos. Then a look of sadness fell over the Keeper of the Dead's face as he turned towards a small hallway that lead through his halls. Varda and Aule followed after him curiously.

"You knew that this might happen someday,' he said critically, mounting the steps slowly. 'You know that this might be inevitable considering all that-that they have gone through."

"What are we supposed to know? We are already aware that there have been battle going on across Middle earth, and that many of my children, and the children of the stars along with Men are here in your halls."

Mandos nodded slowly, sadly. They entered the innermost room of the halls. Here there were a few elves and dwarves scattered about sitting or standing in small groups together.

"Speak plainly, Mandos, what are you hiding?' grumbled Varda, crossing her arms.

The Keeper looked away from her sadly, towards a small form leaning against the basin of the pool. Varda's heart stilled in her chest as she looked over the thin form, taking her in from head to toe, and she fell to her knees, screaming.

"No!" the anguish in her voice reverberating out and over the room. Aule turned from looking over his sons at her outburst, and catching sight of what she had beheld moments before gasped.

"Not my darling? Not my little Naurfileg, what is she doing here?' wept the Queen of the Stars brokenly.

"Gilglan?" questioned the Smith, tears in his eyes.

Thennil raised her head from the basin and looked over towards the stairs from whence she had come, and was humbled and awed by the sight she saw there.

She had seen the Keeper of these halls, but seeing the Queen of the stars was an entirely different matter. She was fairer than any being she had seen, even fairer than her sister Arwen, with her hair black as night floating around her like the galaxy's that she had created. Twisted in among the tendril's of hair their looked to be stars, sparkling even in the dim light of the Halls of the Dead. Eyes that glimmered and shone like the bluish light around them, deep and filled with knowledge. A crown of stars rested upon her brow, their glowing lights giving light to the room. She was breath-taking.

"No, my darling,' moaned the Queen of the stars, tears like crystals falling from her eyes. 'How could this be? How could this happen?"

Walking up from behind them all came Manwe, who took his wife into his arms. "I believe I have the answer to that."

She turned to looked up at him, along with all the others in the room. "What do you mean, my love?"

"I have been in deep thought for much of the day, and spent much time meditating and watching the passing of time in Middle earth since the last time I watched. All through this day I have been beset by a feeling of disquiet. And since the arrival of your chosen, it has grown even more so. It was her entrance into the halls that confirmed the feeling that I have felt for a long time."

The King of the Valar turned to Thennil, a sad look in his eye. "You are not supposed to be here. The battle was set, and I knew how it would end, but you were meant to survive."

"What do you mean?" Thennil asked, hugging herself as she looked intently up into the eyes of her Maker.

"Eru showed me visions and led me through much of what happened to take place to thwart his will. A great evil knew what you were, and what you might do, how you would be a great aide to saving Man. A back-up plan was devised, and it was all centered around killing you if all else failed."

She stiffened with shock, her hands becoming clammy as she listened in fear.

"But who would do such a thing?' asked Aule, finally joining the conversation. 'What fell creature would take out it's anger on a warrior such as her?"

Varda's face darkened as she realized what, or rather who, had meddled. It was not often that the Queen of the stars grew angry, and those who had seen and experienced it did not speak of it, so disconcerting it was. The air seemed to shake, and the stars shivered in their nest among the darkness of the night sky with the force of her anger. " _Sauron."_

Her husband nodded. "Yes, we knew he would gain his full power, or close to it. Margoth's faithful servant had returned. He seeks to bring discord between the races with your death, to have the Age of Men fail before it has even started."

Varda began to fume, tarring herself away from her husband and pacing back and forth in her anger. "Damn him!' those about her recoiled in shock, never having heard the Lady of the Stars use such strong language. 'Damn him and his conniving wizard friend. Damn him to the Void and beyond! Damn him and his horrid mentor!"

The building continued to tremble around them as she paced back and forth, her steps light, yet strong, filled with hatred. Benches teetered, pillars shook, the water in the pool sloshed, though none splashed over the ledge. Thennil, with all her elven balance, has having a hard time keeping her feet on the vibrating floor.

"Calm yourself, my love." Manwe comforted, resting a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder as she passed by him. She shook it off, glaring up at him.

"Calm myself? Calm myself? You expect me to take this news sitting all prim and proper in my sitting room like a lady when I have just learned that _Margoth_ ,' she spat his name, 'is responsible for the premature death of my chosen? How many times must I be reminded of the snake and the betrayal of us all?"

Manwe opened his mouth to speak, but his wife cut him off.

"This treachery can not go unanswered, husband! So much was hanging on her living, so many lives, so many changes for the better between the races of Middle earth!" she cried.

"What would you have me do?' he asked wearily. 'It is not up to us to interfere."

Varda glared at her husband,"Oh, so a demented, fallen Maia is allowed to mess with the fate of my chosen, resurrecting and killing at his own whim, and I, the Queen of the Valar, am not allowed to interfere."

It was then that she caught sight of the Keeper of the Halls, who had been uncharacstically absent from the room. He was watching Thennil, who had turned away from the thundering Valar to look forlornly into the pool. Tears fell from her eyes and mixed with the sacred waters as she shook, praying that Aragorn would be able to stand strong in her absence. Mandos watched her, hearing her whispered prayers over the surface of the water.

His heart had been moved once before, a long time ago, by another sorrowful she-elf who had come into his throne room and sung a song before him. And it was so that her song, of her lost love, of her journey, her struggles, it was almost more sorrowful than the song that had once moved him deeply. She had woven two themes of words, of the sorrow of the Eldar and the grief of Men, of the two kindred's who fates were intertwined together from before Eru had laid the foundations of the world. And so it was once again that Mandos was moved to pity, who had been moved but once before.

 **So, you know how I said that I had another story that I wanted to write, about a character. Well...it flopped. The muse fled...yeah, I'm depressed.**

 **Thanks,**

 **A very Sad Robin...**


	66. Chapter 63

**Sorry about the late update! My dog started vomiting again yesterday morning and I had a large moment of panic because I thought he might have eaten more hair and gotten another blockage! After rushing him to the animal hospital, getting some X-rays done, and given some medication, turns out he just is a little constipated and that is what made him vomit. So, he's all good, just a little under the weather.**

 **After rushing around with my dog all morning I had to go to work, and was there for almost eight hours, and that was really long with lots of grumpy people...**

 **So, here's that chapter, please review!**

 **Robin**

Aragorn had not entered the gates of the city since he had come down to celebrate with the men. He and the hobbits also had spent their time among the Rohirrim, feasting and celebrating. Sitting around them with the fire before and the setting sun behind, he listened in amusement to Sam as he wondered aloud.

He had seen and heard about all manners of orcs, talking trees, and leagues of grass, and galloping riders, and glittering caves, and white towers and golden halls, and battles, and tall ships sailing, all these passed before Sam's mind until he felt bewildered. But amidst all these wonders he returned always to his astonishment at the size of Merry and Pippin; and he made them stand back to back with Frodo and himself.

He scratched his head. 'Can't understand it at your age!' he said. 'But there it is: you're three inches taller than you ought to be, or I'm a dwarf."

Gimli choked on his mead. 'That you certainly are not. But what did I say? Mortals cannot go drinking end-draughts and expect no more to come of them than of a pot of beer."

"Ent-draughts?' said Sam, eyebrow crinkling. 'There you go about Ents again; but what they are beats me. Why, it will take weeks before we get all these things sized up!"

"Weeks indeed,' teased Pippin. 'And then Frodo will have to be locked up in a tower up there in Minas trite and write it all down. Otherwise he will forget half of it, and poor old Bilbo will be dreadfully disappointed."

They continued to chatter along, the sun sinking steadily behind them into the mountains and rolling hills of grass surrounding them. At length Gandalf rose. 'The hands of the King are hands of healing, dear friends,' he said. 'But you went to the very brink of death ere he recalled you, putting forth all his power, and sent you into the sweet forgetfulness of sleep. And though you have indeed slept long and blessedly, still it is now time to sleep again."

"And not only Sam and Frodo here,' said Gimli, looking sternly down at Pippin. 'but you too, my friend. I love you, if only because of the pains you have cost me, which I shall never forget. Nor shall i forget finding you on the hill of the last battle. But for Gimli the Dwarf you would have been lost then. But at least I know now the look of a hobbit's foot, though it be all that can be seen under a heap of bodies. And when I heaved that great carcase off you, I made suer you were dead. I could have torn out my beard! And it is only a few days since you were up and abroad again. To bed now you go. And so shall I."

So the five of them disappeared, but Aragorn remained with Legolas and Gandalf. Soon they were joined by Eomer, and settling into their seats by the fire they waited. The Sun was still falling behind the sky, not quite set, as they watched the entrance to Minas Tirith. Not long after, many torches and lanterns could be seen, bobbing up and down in the fading light. There came a great troupe of Swan Knights, their spears and armor gleaming in the sunlight as they drew near. Aragorn sighed, watching as they marched up to the encampment. As they got closer, many of the Rohirrim stopped in their movements to stare as they passed. But it was not at the Swan Knights that they stared, indeed it was the small band of Southron warriors grouped closely together that their piercing glares rested upon.

At the front of the column came Imrahil, his bearing tall and formidable. Dismounting from his horse, he bowed before the two Kings. The Swan Knights slowly opened up their tight form, letting the captives see who was before them. The group was dressed in clothes that had once been fine and clean, but were now filthy. Their darker skin tones and black curly hair were covered with dirt and grime. The group stayed in their close knit circle, watching the men with suspicion. Eomer and Legolas watched them in curiosity, both having only seen the warriors in battle, but had not had the time to really look at and observe them. They were a curious bunch, wearing loose trousers and long robes or tunics over them. Their arms were bare, and on them they could see markings of some kind, which seemed to cover many parts of their bodies.

Aragorn stood, and stepped closer to them, speaking in both Westron and Hadrinan, 'We mean you no harm. We only wish to speak with your leader."

The men in the group began to chatter and speak together quickly in their rough voices, their language lilting, with almost a musical sound to it. Their voices were worried, some angry, other's exhausted. They used their hands much, gesturing wildly and raising their voices before suddenly quieting. Turning, they looked upon the kings, and Imrahil with a cautious gaze. From among the few men at the front, stepped a short, broad chested man. Across his face was a long scar, going from ear to chin, and his dark black eyes flashed warning.

Aragorn smiled encouragingly, and bowed to him. 'It is an honor to meet you, my-

The man shook his head, stumbling over the words in his coarse voice. 'Our Captain shall speak to you momentarily, but I would ask one boon from you."

"What boon do you ask?" inquired Aragorn, puzzled. Beside him Eomer and Legolas stiffened, glaring at the man.

"Only that you would let our Captain speak before judging his actions,' he said mysteriously.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, but nodded. 'It shall be done."

The men continued on in their silence, but many of them had taken off this garment or that, unwrapping a turban and passing it along into their tight circle. After a few moments, a figure stepped out, tall and slender, but with the sleek body of a warrior. Their face was covered with a turban and strip of cloth covered everything but their eyes. And what eyes! They were a glimmering emerald green sparkling in the smooth skin of golden brown lined with kohl. They were garbed in a long black tunic with red embroidery around the collar and cut-off sleeves. A great red sash encircled their waist over a long robe that swirled around them while a loose pair of trousers that billowed around the ankle. To the utter confusion of the men, the man's feet were small, more delicate than that of his kinsmen.

The man bowed low, and their voice, deep, yet strangely musical, carried over the ground between them. "It is an honor to meet you face to face, O King."

Aragorn nodded.

"Have you brought us to be slaughtered?" the man questioned.

The others were shocked at this blunt question, said without emotion. Aragorn shook his head. 'Nay, we did not bring you out to be slaughtered like sheep, but to offer up an olive branch of sorts."

"You wish for peace?" he was confused.

"Yes."

"Why? You have ever right to kill us, and it would not be held against you."

"It is my belief that many of your people did not wish to come and battle us, but that the evil of Sauron poisoned their minds,' said Gandalf from his seat, observing the man with interest.

"Be that as it may, you are the victors, it is your right, as warriors to deal the killing blow to your enemy in recompense for the death of your kin." Still puzzled.

"I believe that their is a better road to peace than more death,' said Aragorn.

The man nodded.

"Tell us how you came to join our enemy, and your people,' said Legolas, and the others looked at him strangely. He had never been one interested in this part of war.

The warrior stiffened, but nodded. The other men behind him were not so happy. Their voices grew loud and angry, and Aragorn was able to hear many curses being uttered. Their leader stood before them, back straight and head held high. Finally when their voices had risen to an almost deafening level, their captain twisted to look at them, voice sharp and commanding.

"Ikhras!"

The men quieted down instantly, but their eyes remained on the elf, glaring at him. The captain shook his head, and about faced to look at them.

"As you wish, my lord."

And so, he began, swinging his arms wide.

"Come my friends, incline your ears, and give heed to my words. For I shall tell you the story of the Serpent people and how they came to join in brotherhood with the Great One.

Long ago, our people were a small tribe, but they were cunning. They were smart, and quick. Soon they grew into a large tribe, attacking their neighbors and growing their wealth and land. Now our people were a nomadic people, wanderer of the desert, and there we dwelled in tents. We turned from our raiding ways, and our leader, Baseerat, (B-SAAD-R), established peace with the smaller tribes around us by marrying his daughters off to the prominent me, and taking daughters from his allies to marry his sons. And so peace flourished, and our tribe grew. Many years past, and our camel herds grew large, our goats and sheep were fat and produced much trade between ourselves and our neighbors. We established trading routes to the far south, bringing silks, spices, incense, perfumes, jewels and the like. We became a great nation, our warriors strong, our tents full, our people happy.

It was then that the tempter came, the Great One, the Evil One. He deceived us, and bound us by our word in a contract we did not understand. And so our people were enslaved slowly, sending our warriors ever ten years to his home in the north. He promised us protection from an unseen enemy, from Gondor, from the stewards, and slowly fed us lies about how they would come and take our land, steal our children, and murder our people. Fear grew in our hearts, however un-logical.

Our warriors came back after their time serving in his armies and as his spies changed. They were harder, meaner, and without hope. They did and saw things that no warrior, woman or child should have to see or do. Many left to wander the depths of the desert, never to return. Our people fell into despair, and yet we flourished.

Then the Great One, the Evil One, began to demand more and more tributes, more warriors. Our leaders, and those of the other tribes that had agreed to the contract, argued with him, saying that we had filled our quota of warriors that were to sent. Those days were dark, and the Great One's wrath was not something we forgot. He sent his bands of orcs and burned our tents, raped our women, and murdered our children in the streets. He struck fear into our hearts. Then we came willingly, volunteering our services so that those who could not fight were spared. Our people were decimated, growing fewer by the year. We prayed that our children would be female, and that they would not have to fight, but it was not to be.

As our men were forced to join his armies, our women had to learn to defend their camps, their herds, and their possessions from bandits and thieves. And so he began to request them on the battlefield. None ever returned. And we did not now their fate even now, though it must have been death.

It was then, under the rule of Mukhtar, that he sent men into the North to spy upon our oppressor, and to spy on those the Great One had said would harm us.

Now, listen carefully, and give ear to my words. We are of the desert, deep within Harad. We did not have skirmishes and battles with Southern Gondor, we picked no fight with them. It was our enemies that did so, and in doing so, left a sharp bitter taste in the mouth of the Gondordian people, like taking a bite of ginger alone. Our spy's found that the Great One was not only threatening our people, but those who lived in the north. Our chief and his councilors discussed long and hard how to rid ourselves of his hand, but at ever turn we were met with what would be our people's death.

And that is why, my lords, the people of the Serpent marched against Gondor, against it's people, with whom we had no quarrel with."

"So, you fought, but through no choice of your own."

"Aye. If we had not, our children would have died. And for those that did want to join the Great One's army, it was because they loved war, loved the rush of energy, and felt that our gods had called them to battle." Stated the man.

Legolas peered closer at the man, "And what is your name?"

The stranger paused, and the men behind him stiffened, clenching their fists tightly by their sides as their eyes seemed to bulge out of their faces.

"It is only fair for you to give your name in return, elf lord." The stranger stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I am Legolas, Prince of Greenwood, and one of the ten companions who traveled with the Ringbearer to end all darkness." Replied the elf, lifting his chin.

The man bowed deeply, though they could see his eyes twitching behind the scarf as he bent his legs, robes sweeping the ground, "It is an honor, my lord."

Rising, he stood tall, ramrod straight and heads hanging at his sides. "I am Badiul-alam, Amarjeet. Emir of the Akhdar Waha, (Wahat); leader of the Sultan's warriors; Councilor to the wise; Bearer of the standard of the Serpent; second only in command to the Black Serpent, who was my kin."

The other's rose abruptly, Eomer first, drawing his sword. "Your kin killed my Uncle!"

He took a step towards Amarjeet, eyes blazing in fury, Legolas placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, but there was a fire in his eyes. The man did not flinch at Eomer's anger, but shook his head. "The wound that bleedeth inwardly is the most dangerous, Eomer King. _Ikiwa unataka kulipiza kisasi kumpeleka mwanamke mzuri."_

The men behind him laughed loudly, hooting and whistling as Eomer came to a stopped, physically shaking from head to toe. Amarjeet could see that the man was filled with passion, and smiled behind the scarf. Taking a few steps forward, closer to Eomer, he bowed again. The warrior nodded to the scimitar laying on the ground at the kings feet, and knelt before the king, pulling the scarf away from his neck, he bowed his head low.

"Maisha Yangu iko mikononi mako,' said the man.

Eomer yanked himself away from Legolas, and raised his sword. All froze, hearts beating frantically as the Rohirrim king stood over the prostrate figure of his enemy. Amarjeet knelt, still as a statue, and looked like he was holding his breath as he waited for the blade to fall. Eomer's hands began to shake as his great strength battled with the will of his mind. The man felt the rush of air as the king brought the sword down, but started when he saw the blade embedded in the ground before his eyes. Eomer took a step back from the Haradrim, watching as the southern warriors gazes did not leave their leader.

"You have shown great mercy, Eomer King, for Bravery without intelligence is not bravery at all, but brute strength and a foolish heart,' came a soft voice.

Lifting his head, Amarjeet removed his scarf from around his face, pulling the turban off as well so that his face might been seen. There were gasps from the soldiers behind, and cries of anger from the Haradrim as they angrily pushed against the men who held them together, spears pointed at them. Gandalf raised his eyebrow, and sputtered and coughed out the smoke he had inhaled, the smoke coming out his nose and mouth. Imrahil covered his face with his hand, rubbing his eyes as he took in the figure. Legolas stood stock still as he took in the sight, his brain running in circles as he tried to figure out what he was seeing.

Standing up from the ground, Amarjeet swept his hair over his shoulder.

"Like King, like people,' came the soft voice again.

"You are a-a woman?" came the confused voice of Eomer.

The woman smiled, and bowed. 'Is it so strange among your people to see a woman as a warrior?"

He shook his head.

"Is it not the White Lady of Rohan that struck down the Witch King? may his ashes forever be lost. Was it not your Anka kuşu that fought at your side against us on this field? And what of the silent Swan who tended to our wounds when no one else would?"

Imrahil straightened, looking at her sharply. "Swan?"

Amarjeet turned to him, and gave him a curious look, crinkling her eyebrow. "Yes, how do you say her name...Ah! Lotloriel?"

"Lothloriel." came the snappish reply.

"Yes, she was ever kind to us, binding our wounds. She has shown us that we were indeed wrong about you Gondordian, that there perhaps might be peace among our people." she said, bowing, yet as she went down to kneel again, in a more prostrate position, she stumbled.

No cry of pain left her lips, and a trickle of blood dripped down her chin from her mouth where her teeth had cut into her lip. Hands clenching, she shakily bowed, but once down in the position, it was evident that all the movement had not been good for her. She could not rise. Stuck in that position, she continued to look at the ground in humiliation. Stepping forward, Legolas gripped her arm in his own, their bare skin touching, and helped her to stand. She tried to straighten herself, so that she would not be leaning against him, but he pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her waist. Reluctantly she let a little of her weight be carried by him as they walked to a seat before the fire. Sitting her down, the elf began to examine her carefully asking questions.

"Where is the wound?' he demanded after many attempts to get the answer out of her gently. She glared up at him, and clenched her fists, green eyes flashing in the firelight. He huffed angrily, but mentally reprimanded himself, he had been spending to much time around Men and Dwarves, picking up their annoying habits. He closed his eyes, hissing softly before opening them again and looking deep into hers. 'I only ask because it is evident that it pains you to walk, and that you have reached your limit."

She rolled her eyes, flinging her long black hair over her shoulder, 'There is nothing you can do."

"And why is that?" asked Aragorn, standing from his seat looking her over.

"It is an old wound, one that becomes bothersome when I am unable to stretch it properly,' she looked up at the king, 'and forgive me for saying so, but your dungeons are extremely cramped."

Aragorn looked from her to Imrahil, 'When was the last time they were taken out for a walk in the sun?"

Imrahil shrugged, 'I do not know."

"This is the first time that I have seen the sun since we were taken prisoner,' Amarjeet said, hand wandering down to her knee where she began to rub circles with her fingers. Legolas' eyes were immediately drawn to her long, elegant fingers. Strangely enough, they were not callused like his own, or even Thennil's had been, but smooth in places, with small scars in others barely noticeable to the eye. Along her arms ran strange golden red tattoos that stood out against her tan skin, it swirled around, almost looking alive in places, before starting the pattern over again.

Standing this close to her, he was able to smell how filthy she was, able to see the dark marks of soil and ash on her skin. Her feet were caked in what looked like mud, but could have been other things, and her clothes, now that she was closer to them, were riddled with holes and torn in places up to a hands length or more. Her clothes were literally hanging together by threads. There were small cuts here and there on her arms, which had been treated by the looks of them, her shoulder was another story. Here there was a white bandage peeking out from under the layers of her tunic. It looked like it had been changed recently, and he could just smell the herbs used in the poultice. She did not look like quite the formidable warrior that she had on the field, but rather a beaten down, weary one. Cautiously he looked over that area, and smiled subtly when she did not pull away from him as he brushed her hair out of the way behind her ear so he could get a better look.

He gasped, and drew back as she jerked away from him, eyes open wide as they stared at one another.

"Your ears!"

"What are you do-

"How-

"Get away from me!" she screamed, leaping from the chair, and stumbling around to the other side of the fire. The light of the flames danced across her features as she stared in horror at Legolas. Everyone froze once again, watching in awe.

"Who would have thought you were the type that scared the lasses away with your long blond locks,' came a deep chuckling voice.

Out from the shadows stepped Gimli, clad in a relaxed version of his traveling clothes, his axe in his belt, and his arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes twinkled merrily as he took in the scene, beard wagging. Amarjeet paused, looking at the dwarf curiously, cocking her head to one side. She had never seen someone so short, nor so stout. Gimli looked her over with just as much curiosity as he nodded in her direction.

"Lass."

"You-you- she couldn't quite seem to get the words out-you're a dwarf?"

He laughed, 'What else would I be? Certainly not an elf!"

She smiled slowly, before bobbing her head.

"And that is what you are,' he stated, looking pointedly at her ears.

Her eyebrow crinkled, 'An...elf? What is this creature?"

Eomer burst out laughing then, doubling over and holding his sides. Startled by the man's laughter, the woman turned to him.

"Truly, what is an elf? I have never heard of this strange creature,' she said, looking around at them pleadingly. 'What does it look like?"

Gimli slapped Legolas on the shoulder, causing the elf to stumble, looking down at his friend with a fearsome glare. "Well, normally their tall. Pretty skinny. Have boundless energy, kind of like a dog,' muttered Gimli under his breath, 'Amazing eyesight, they vary in hair color. Love showing off. Oh!' he stopped, tapping his chin mysteriously before his eyes snapped up to look at her, 'and they have these really pointy ears."

Her hands slipped up to touch her ears, and she looked up at Legolas with curiosity, seeing his own ears poking out from his long blonde hair. "But that's not possible. I am Badiul-alam, unique in this world." she paused, face going blank. Legolas could see the gears turning in her head as she processed the new information. Then she smiled, and it was a beauty to behold.

"Then, I am not alone? There are others like me?' she asked, almost giddily.

Gimli laughed. 'Aye, hundreds, thousands of people just like you."

"And they look like me?" she asked, motioning to her hair, and then to her skin.

Gimli paused, suddenly uncomfortable. She sensed his hesitation, could see the uncertainty in his eyes as his gaze flickered over Legolas and the few other elves walking around the camp. All were tall and fair skinned with blond hair sprinkled with a few browns, blacks, reds, and silvers. Her shoulders slumped slowly as she looked over Legolas.

"Then, I am still Badiul-alam, alone." she sighed, momentarily sorrowful, before straightening as much as she could.

Turning to Aragorn and Eomer, she inclined her head, a worried look coming over her face. 'What is the fate of my people? What have you done with their bodies?"

Aragorn and Eomer looked betwixt each other, before looking at her. 'Their bodies have been buried in a grave beyond that ridge, closest to the River."

Then she wailed, long and loud, she took off running, and her warriors joined her, their wails echoing over the hills as the Swan Knights and others from among the Rohirrim joined in chasing after their prisoners. Through the camp she ran, her old wound half forgotten as her heart beat hysterically in her chest. Stumbling and tripping she made it past the edge of the camp, climbing up the hill frantically, voices crying behind her. She pushed her body over the vast dry fields, her eyes focused on the mount rising up out of the dirt growing larger before her. Stopping before the mound, she wept, tears streaming down from her eyes as her men came to a stop around her, their own tears of sorrow joining hers. A few moments later the Swan knights and the others approached them, and turning to one of them, she spoke.

"Where was the Black Serpent buried?" she asked, pleading.

The man, or an elf really, if his ears said anything about him, nodded is head. He slowly lead her away from the mound, and up onto a hill facing the south, but not in sight of the city. She did not hear those who followed after her, nor did she wish to as he wound his way around the soft hills. They came to a stop before another larger grave, and the elf pointed to it.

"That is where the Black Serpent is buried, along with all those who we deemed of high rank," he said, before bowing and turning away.

She slowly approached the grave, weeping growing in volume as she began to wail, her voice rising and falling like the wind. Soon other voices joined hers, each one seeming to add to the sorrow of the song they wove. From their mouths fell words that most did not understand, but the tone was universal. Sorrow. Before too long, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting shadows over the plains, and the sky was a blanket of scarlets, oranges, golds, and deep umber tones. Those watching were filled with awe as the group of warriors began to dance, waving their arms and bending their bodies in tune to their song. The red light of the fading sun made their skin look like it was alight with fire, and their dark braids woven with gold beads gleamed in the light. They began to stomp, forming a rough circle, a story being told through their movements. Some flapped their arms like great birds, beautiful and free, while others swooped around, weaving in and out among their brethren. Slowly, as the sun dropped behind the mountain, and the last light fell upon them, Amarjeet burst forth from the center, leaping high into the air and preforming a front flip. She landed just as the light disappeared from the sky.

The group turned away from the grave, and each man walked up to one of the warriors, offering them their hands. On their faces was a look of profound hopelessness, and sorrow, such as many of the men had experienced before. Amarjeet walked up to Eomer, who stood before Legolas and Gimli, her wrists touching. The man looked at her with the most puzzled gaze. She offered him her wrists again.

"What is this?"

"In our land, it is universally accepted that when you have lost a battle, and have been taken prisoner with a large group of your brethren, that you choose a master for yourself." she said.

"A master?" asked the dwarf from behind Eomer, utterly confused.

"Yes,' she looked defiantly up into the man's eyes. 'I am your slave, unless you wish something else of me."

"Nay, I have no use for slaves, not now, nor ever,' he said as the others around him began to realize the same thing. 'We do not participate in that type of a thing here in the north."

"Curious." she murmured.

Aragorn stepped up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she looked around, quite lost. "I am putting you under the official care of Legolas- here Legolas stiffened, and stared at his friend with an eyebrow raised- so that you might learn the ways of your northern kinsmen."

"And the other's?' she asked.

"Your kinsmen who remained are the ones who were to grievously wounded to travel back to your homeland, and so I will place them under men who I trust,' said Aragorn.

She shook her head, 'Once broken, trust is the most difficult thing to regain. I had hoped that we might resolve our differences sooner."

"In time, my friend, in time." said Aragorn, turning her back towards the White City. 'But now you must rest, and let me see to that old wound of yours.'

Sitting around the fire, Gimli kept looking over at her. He would open his mouth, then shut it again, then open it, before snapping it shut once again. He was beginning to look like the fish that swam in the little pools by the sea, their mouths opening and shutting continually as they swam through the water. Finally, it seemed that he couldn't take it anymore, and twisting to look up at her, spoke.

"What was that stomping, dance, twirling thing, you were doing out there, lassie?" he asked, stroking his beard.

She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, staring into the flames as the leaped about, dancing as the breeze blew around them. Smiling fondly in memory, she began.

"It is the dance of the Anka kuşu, or the Fire bird, Phoenix, in your language. There is an old story, our wise women say that it was a prophecy about one of the warriors of the tribe, but no one believes them any more, it goes something like this:

Rising from the ashes, you spread your wings and fly,

Reaching now for those final dreams, belief will never die,

Beautiful, so glorious, the eternal bird of fire,

Soaring up into the sun, leaving behind the pyre,

She is the Phoenix, who has risen from the ashes,

from which she was reduced.

Because sometimes one just has to die

in order to be reborn and rise again

as a stronger and wiser version of yourself.'

We believe that when one of our warriors dies, far to the south, where the sun never sets, and the heat of the day is like that of a forge, they are reborn into this form. But, it is only a story,' she chuckled, looking up at them. 'I have travelled far to the south, and there is no such place."

"It is a curious story, though,' said a golden haired elf sitting across from her, his blue eyes looking down at her kindly.

She smiled, her dark skin blushing rosily.

In the shadows of his tent, Aragorn lay awake that night, unable to fall asleep.


	67. Chapter 64

**Had a very rough week, work was crazy and I got called in quite a few times to cover for people. Also wasn't feeling very good this week, so that played into being unable to post this chapter.**

 **Please note that this is jumping around in the time line, so be prepared.**

 **Robin**

It was dread and doubt that hung over the city of Gondor as they had waited for they lords to return. Fair weather and clear sun had seemed but a mockery to men whose days held little hope, and who looked each morning for news of their doom. Their lord was dead and burned, dead lay the King of Rohan in their citadel, and the new king that had come to them had disappeared in the flurry of preparation in the moments before the army had departed from the city to wage war against the powers too dark and terrible for any might or valour to conquer.

It was then, after only two days that the Lady Eowyn asked the women attending her, to bring her her raiment, and she would not be dissuaded. When they had clothed her in white linen and set her arm in a sling, she went to the Warden of the House of Healing. Her golden hair hung down her back, and the sun made it look like it glowed as she stood before the man.

"Sir,' she said, 'I cannot rest, and no longer will I lie upon my bed slothfully waiting."

The man shook his head, fear in his eyes as he looked her over, 'Lady. you are not yet healed, and I was commanded to tend you with especial care. You should not have risen from your bed for seven more days, or so I was told. I beg of you, please return to your bed."

She shook her mane of hair, huffing softly, 'I am healed, or at least in body, save for my left arm only, and that is at ease. But I shall sicken anew if there is naught that I can do. Are there no tidings of war? I have not seen Lotty in the past few days, and the women can tell me nothing."

The Warden sighed, 'There are no tidings, save that the Lords have ridden to Morgul Vale; and men say that the new captain out of the North is their chief. A great lord is that, and a healer; and it is a thing passing strange to me that the healing hand should also weird a sword. It is not thus in Gondor now, though once it was so, if old tales be true. But for long years we healers have only sought to patch the rents made by the men of swords. Though we should still have enough to do without them: the world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them."

"It needs but one foe to breed war, not two, Master Warden,' answered Eowyn. 'And those who have not swords can still die upon them. Would you have the folk of Gondor gather you herbs only, when the Dark Lord gathers armies? And it is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter."

The Warden stared up at her. Tall she stood there, her eyes bright in her white face, her right hand clenched as she turned and gazed out his window that opened to the East. He sighed and shook his head. After a pause she turned to him again.

"Where is Lothloriel?' she asked.

"I do not know, but I have heard that she started organizing women to clean the palace so that it is open for guests,' he began to ramble on before she glared sharply at him, 'I shall send for her immediately."

He motioned to one of the lower healers, quickly whispering a few words before sending him on his way. The lady turned back to him after staring out through one of the porticos for a long while.

"Is there no deed to do?' she said. 'Who commands in this City?"

"I do not rightly know,' the warden answered. 'Such things are not my care. There is a marshal over the Riders of Rohan; and the Lord Hurin, I am told, commands the men of Gondor. Then there are the elves, who have been left under the command of one by the name of Lindor, left by the Lady Thennil. Lothloriel has taken the reigns in regards to finding things for the women and children to do, seeing as she is the highest ranking noble here. But Faramir is by right the Steward of the City."

"Where might I find him?" Eowyn asked, recognizing the name from the conversations that she and Lothloriel had had over the past few days.

"Why, in this house, lady. He was sorely hurt, but is now set again on the way to health. But I do not know-'

"Will you not bring me to him, or him to me? Then you will know."

The steward shook his head sorrowfully, 'I will search for him, my lady, and if and when I find him, I shall send him to the garden."

Eowyn began to walk the garden alone, letting the pale sunlight warm her, feeling as if new life ran anew in her views; but her heart was heavy, and her arm did pain her a little. Not that she would admit that to any of the healers. She was restless, and bored. The few days that she had spent in the company of Lothiriel had brightened her mood, but once her new friend had left, she had been plagued by dark thoughts and moods. Beyond the walls of the House of Healing the city had gone silent, as if waiting with baited breath for any news to come bursting in upon them. Leaning over the ledge of one of the arches, she looked out over the city.

It was then that the Warden, Emil, was his name, approached with the Lord Faramir. 'Here she is my lord, the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, who I told you about. She rode with the king and was sorely hurt, and dwells now in my keeping, but she is not content, and she wishes to speak to the Steward of the City."

Eowyn turned from her gaze over the city, and nodded her head to the Steward, 'Do not misunderstand him, lord,' she said. 'It is not lack of care that grieves me, for the healers have been very attentive. No houses could be fairer, for those who desire to be healed. But I cannot lie in sloth, idle, caged. I looked for death in battle. But I have not died, and battle still goes on."

At a sign from Faramir, the Warden bowed and departed, relieved to be free of the duty of finding something for the determined young woman to do. He was not entirely sure of her, and had muttered a few remarks about women knowing their place, looking out for the children, and the like. Many of the other women had said much of the same, murmuring words behind their hands to one another. They were glad that the Witch King was dead, but they found it hard to understand how a woman could kill such a being. There had been few and far between women warriors in Gondor, indeed, the last one had been of the line of the children of Dol Amroth, Lothiriel's great-great-grandmother, Idril. They had disapproved of the girl's inclination towards fighting, but did not come down to hard on her, as there were few positions that a mute could take, even as a noble. The girl was an incredible healer, and organizer, having taken over the running of the castle of Dol Amroth when she was just a few months shy of fifteen. It had been taken away from her when her elder brother had married his wife, Tatiana, when she was sixteen.

"What would you have me do, lady?' asked Faramir, an innocent smirk creeping up his face. 'I also am a prisoner of the healers." He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart. It was after he had looked at her for what seemed like an age that soft footsteps came up the corridor, stopping just before they entered the garden, but he didn't hear. She looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.

"What do you wish?' he asked again. 'If it lies in my power, I will do it."

"I would have you command the Warden of this house, and bid him let me go,' she said; but though her words were still proud, her heart faltered, and for the first time she doubted herself. She guessed that this tall man, both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward, like a child that has not the firmness of mind to go on with a dull task to the end.

"I myself am in the Warden's keeping,' answered Faramir. 'Nor have I yet taken up my authority in the City, that would be something for Lothiriel. But had I done so, I should still listen to his counsel, and should not cross his will in matters of his craft, unless in some great need."

"But I do not desire healing,' she pleaded, looking out towards the fields where a few bands of men still buried and burned the carcasses of their enemies. 'I wish to ride to war like my brother Eomer, or better like Theoden the King, for he died and has both honor and peace."

"It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength,' he said. 'But death in battle may come to us all yet, willing or unwilling. You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting." He sighed, leaning out to look over his city, remembering it as it had been, whole, and lovely.

She did not answer him, but as he looked at her over his shoulder it seemed to him that something in her softened, as though a bitter frost were yielding at the first faint presage of spring. She hugged herself, looking over the city with him silently.

"The city is so quiet, there isn't a noise to be heard." A tear sprang in her eye and fell down her cheek, like a glistening drop of rain on the glass of a window. Her proud head drooped a little. Faramir walked up behind her, looking out upon the city where her own gaze rested. "It is so cold."

"It is just the damp of the first spring rain,' he told her, breathing deeply. 'I do not believe this darkness will endure."

"But while it does the healers would have me lie abed seven days yet,' she said. 'And my window does not look eastward.' Her voice was like that of a maiden young and sad.

Faramir smiled softly, though his heart was filled with pity. 'You window does not look eastward?' he asked, glancing behind him to the corridor. 'That can be amended. In this I will command the Warden. I you will stay in this house in our care, lady, and take your rest, then you shall walk in this garden in the sun, as you wish; and you shall look east, whither all our hopes have gone. And here you will find me, walking and waiting, and also looking east. It would ease my care, if you would speak to me, or walk at here and there with me."

Then she raised her eyes, and looked him in the face once again; and a color come into her pale face. 'Hoe should I ease your care, my lord?' she asked, puzzled. 'And I do not desire the speech of living men."

"Would you have my plain answer,' he asked, taking her arms in his hands gently.

"I would."

"Then, Eowyn of Rohan, I say to you that you are beautiful. In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still; but neither flower nor lady have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely, and so sorrowful. It may be that only a few days are left ere darkness falls upon our world, and when it comes I hope to face it steadily; but it would ease my heart, if while the Sun yet shines, I could see you still. For you and I have both passed under the wings of the Shadow, and the same hands drew us back."

Eowyn pulled out of his embrace, clenching her hand as she looked up at him. 'Alas, not me, lord! Shadow lies on me still. Look not to me for healing! I am a shieldmaiden and my hand is ungentle. But I thank you for this at least, that I need not keep to my chamber. I will walk abroad by the grace of the Steward of the City.' And she turned back to the house, walking steadily through one of the entrances. But Faramir for a long while walked alone in the garden, and his glance now strayed rather to the house than to the eastward walls.

He was so deep in thought that he jumped when a gentle hand was laid upon his arm, and twisting around, he grabbed the arm that was attached to it in a tight grip. He immediately released the arm, gasping in shock, shaking his head as he took a few steps back.

"Forgive me, Lotty,' he said, rubbing his face with a callused hand.

"There is nothing to forgive,' she signed, smiling up at him softly. Her eyes twinkled as she leaned against one of the pillars in the garden.

"What have you been up to for the past few days?' he asked.

"Not much,' she said, and smirked up at him. 'But it looks like you have been busy, waxing poetry at a beautiful woman."

The man groaned, covering his face with his hands. 'You saw us?"

"I wasn't the only one,' she grinned, movements filled with glee.

He peaked out from behind his hands, questioningly.

"What do you want to know,' she asked, putting a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised teasingly.

"Everything."

She laughed, though it came out as more of a hissing noise. And so they sat together, and while that day lasted the talked together, speaking much of Eowyn. Faramir learned a lot from her, though she had only spent a few days in the company of the Lady, she had learned much, picking up on the woman's moods, and being able to read her face and movements like an open book. Towards the end of their conversation about Eowyn he thought that he understood something of the grief and unrest of Eowyn. And in the fair evening Faramir and Lothiriel walked the garden, but Eowyn did not come.

Lothiriel watched them closely over the next few days, ordering the servants and women alike in the cleaning of the castle and organizing the food sources, sending word to Dol Amroth with inquiries about the merchant ships coming in from the north and south. She would sit in her room within the house that her Father kept in Minas Tirith, which was across and a little higher than the Healing Halls, and look into the garden each morning. She would sit and sew in the early morning light watching her cousin as he and the white lady would walk the walls. Eowyn clad all in white, gleaming like the sun, and Faramir in his dark blue tunic and black trousers, arms linked, strolling on the grass or seated under a green tree together. Every morning after was just the same, the walked or sat, talked or were silent, dwelling together in a comfortable companionship. Each day when she looked down from her window, Lothiriel's heart great gladder and gladder, for she was a healer of sorts, and knew that her watchful care had been lightened; and certain it was that, heavy as the dread and foreboding of those days upon the hearts of men, still these two whom she loved dearly prospered and grew daily in strength.

Each day Lothiriel would tackle a new task in the castle, working out from the throne room. She set groups of women and servants alike to cleaning and the draping of new tapestries, opening the sky-lights when there was no rain, and airing the castle out of it's stale state. With each morn her heart grew happier, and a new song seemed to burst forth from within her as she worked in the kings house. While the days seemed to grow darker, her joy seemed to multiply seven-fold. The women she worked alongside were ever casting curious looks in her direction as she danced through the rooms of the castle, feet light and lips pulled tight in a radiant smile. Many of the women stopped for a moment here and there, not listening to just her tapping feet, but a strange humming coming from wherever she fluttered.

Starting the day after Eowyn and Faramir began their daily walk in the mornings she had snuck down into the dungeons beneath the white stones of Minas Tirith, and weaseled her way into the cells. She knew that her father would not be pleased with how she led her guard down with the prisoners, and so she had a guard standing watch as she looked over and treated the wounds of their enemies, showing them kindness. There in the darkness of the prisons she found much illness and despair. The men of the Haradrim were a proud race, but when she smiled, and made signals with her hands, pointing to their wounds, they nodded. Soon she was teaching them sign's for different things, and learning a few words in Southron, though none of the sounds ever made it past her vocal chords. She bathed and wrapped their wounds with herbs, and listened to them talk about their families, their children while she cared for them. She made the guards swear that they wouldn't say a word.

She was immensely curious about the man who seemed to be the leader of the group. He was thin and willowy, and filled with an otherworldly aura, that reminded her of something. She had treated the wound on his shoulder, and had gasped at the tattoos there. Indeed, all of the men seemed to have tattoos of one form or another. Some were small, or along one arm, while others started from their fingers and went to their backs. She was immensely fascinated with them. The tattoos of the leader of the group were interesting, an almost golden color against his tan skin. When she changed the bandages on them it took all her self control to keep her fingers from tracing over the marks.

She had heard of this practice before, but her aunt Ivriniel said that it was barbaric and uncivilized. She had rolled her eyes at the thought, and even designed some in secret when she was a girl just to spite her aunt. Now seeing the marks, she understood that it was a cultural thing, not something done for fun or thrill, like her brother Amrothos had done when she was a young teenager. He had decided that since he was a 'man' that he should get a tattoo, like many of the sailors and merchants had. She had laughed so hard when he had come home with a large, double swan tattoo on his shoulder, eyes red and weepy. Her father had been quite furious in the beginning, saying that it wasn't proper and many other things, upholding the family name being the item hung over her brothers head most often. Not long after Erchirion had come home late one night, and she had caught him sneaking through her sitting room which joined with his study through a door. His face had been red, and she had immediately torn his shirt off to find a small poem written on his back over his heart. She had rolled her eyes and made him a pain relief tea before sending him off to bed. Her father hadn't known about his until they went boating to one of the islands in the bay for fun one afternoon, stripping down to their trousers and letting the sun get to their skin as they splashed in the water. Her father had been shocked to say the least. Elphir hadn't even dared to get a tattoo, with him courting his soon-to-be wife. Tatiana's parents would have lost their shallow minds if they had learned that their daughters suitor had a tattoo. It was so taboo.

It was a strange thing that happened one morning, nearly five days after Eowyn first went to Faramir, that Lothiriel received a message. Faramir's handwriting was elegant as always, if not a little shaky, but that was not what confused her. He had asked that she bring him his mother's cloak, the blue one that had been made just a few months before her aunts untimely death. She had gone at one into the Stewards house, and entered his mother's room. She had not known her Aunt very well, and there were only a few memories that she could clearly see in her mind, and it was always of her aunts gentle smiles and soft laughter. Towards the end of Finduilas, she had grow weary, as if the darkening days had sapped away all her strength. She had died peacefully in her sleep, much to early for one so young. Pulling the deep blue mantle from the dusty closet, she shook it out, and wrapped it up in a length of linen before hurrying to the Healing House.

Faramir thanked her, and tossing a heavy cloak on over his warm clothes, hurried out into the garden. A cold breeze was blowing in from the north as she followed him out into the garden. There she paused, feeling like she was intruding on a private moment as her cousin draped the heavy blue mantle over Eowyn's head. The cloth was of the finest weave, and kept out the winds; it was set with silver stars about the hem and the throat. Wrapped in the robe, Eowyn looked fair and queenly indeed as she stood there by his side. She shivered as her cousins fingers smoothed out the wrinkles of the garb, trailing over Eowyn's face for a second before he reached down and cradled her hand in his elbow. Lothiriel felt that the robe was a fitting raiment for the White beauty and sadness of her friend.

Shivering beneath her own mantle and lined coat, she joined them silently, looking northward, above the grey hither lands, into the eye of the cold wind where far away the sky was hard and clear.

"What do you look for, Eowyn?' asked Faramir softly.

"Does the Black Gate not lie in that direction?' she asked, pointing. 'He must be coming here. It is seven days since he rode away."

Lothiriel was puzzled, wondering of who she spoke, before the image of a tall, golden-headed warrior rose in her mind. Eomer was his name, whom she had learned through Eowyn, was her friends brother. Pulling her cloak closer, she wondered if her father and brother's would be coming home upon their horse, or carried upon the shields of their men. She shivered with worry.

"Seven days,' said Faramir. 'Don't think ill of me, if I say to you: they have brought me both a joy and a pain that I never thought to know. Joy to see you; but pain, because now the fear and doubt of this evil time are growing darker indeed. Eowyn, I would not have this world end now, or lose so soon what I have found."

Lothiriel smiled sadly.

"Lose what you have found, lord?' answered Eowyn; but she looked at him gravely and her eyes were kind. 'I don't know what you have found during these days that you could lose. But come, my friend, lets not speak of it! Let us not speak at all! I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom."

"Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom,' agreed Faramir, taking Lothiriel's hand in his own as she stared over the vast expanse of land that opened up before the city. And they said no more; and it seemed to them as they stood upon the wall that the wind died, and the light failed, and the Sun was bleared and all sounds in the city or in the land about were hushed: neither wind, now voice, nor bird-call, nor rustle of leaf, nor their own breath could be heard; the very beating of their hearts was stilled. Time halted.

And as they stood so, Faramir and Eowyn's hands clasped tightly together, Lothiriel with her own wrapped around herself. And still they waited, but for what they did not know, only that they held their breath with anticipation. Then presently it seemed to them that above the ridges of the distant mountains another vast mountain of darkness rose, towering up and up like a wave that should engulf the world, and about it lighting flickered; and then a tremor ran through the earth, and they felt the walls of the City quiver. The ground beneath their feet shook and shivered, and they held tightly to one another. A sound like a sigh went up from all the lands about them; and their hearts beat suddenly again.

"It reminds me of Numenor,' said Farmir suddenly, and wondered to hear himself speak.

"Of Numenor?' said Eowyn, confused.

"Yes,' he said, looking down at her for a second, before his eyes turned back towards the ridges. 'of the land of Westernesse that foundered, and of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable. I often dream of it."

"Then you think that the Darkness is coming?' said Eowyn fearfully. 'Darkness Unescapable?' and she suddenly drew near to him. He wrapped an arm about her, holding her close. Lothiriel squirmed uncomfortably next to them, feeling quite like the unwanted third wheel.

"No,' he said, looking down into Eowyn's face. 'It was but a picture in the mind. I do not know what is happening. The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of all days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me that no reason can deny. Eowyn, Eowyn,' he cried, voice light with happiness. 'White Lady of Rohan, in this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!" and stooping, he kissed her on the mouth.

Lothiriel, faded back into the shadows, but still close to the opening looking out towards the Black Gate. And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and the couples hair, deep auburn and white gold, streamed out mingling in the air as one. Lothiriel's own dark hair broke loose from it's tight braid, whipping around in the wind, so strong it was, and she grumbled at it as it continued to blow over her eyes and face. And the Shadow departed, and the sun was unveiled, and light leaped forth; and the waters of the Anduin shone like silver, and in all the houses of the City men sang for the joy that welled up in their hearts from what source they could not tell.

Lothiriel departed from the Halls of Healing, and went up to the citadel at the topmost level of the city. She worked with the servants with a renewed vigor, and there was laughter in the Kings halls once again. And before the Sun had fallen far from the noon out of the East there came a great Eagle flying, and he bore tidings beyond hope from the Lords of the West, crying:

 _Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,_

 _for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,_

 _and the Dark Tower is thrown down._

 _Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of the Guard,_

 _for your watch ahah not been in vain,_

 _and the Black Gate is broken,_

 _and your King hath passed through,_

 _and he is victorious._

 _Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,_

 _for your King shall come again,_

 _and he shall dwell among you_

 _all the days of your life._

 _And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,_

 _and he shall plant it in the high places,_

 _and the City shall be blessed._

 _Sing all ye people!_

It was then, while she stood in the topmost room of the tower of the palace, hanging out the window as she cleaned, that she sang. The words flowed from her lips like water, clear and quick. It came first like the first drops of dew upon the grass, then a trickle, then a roaring ocean tide.

"Many nights we're prayed,

with no proof anyone could hear,

In our hearts a hopeful song

we barely understood.

Now we are not afraid,

although we know theres much to fear.

We were moving mountains long before we knew we could.

When you believe

though hope was frail

It's hard to kill

Who know what miracles

You can achieve

When you believe

Somehow we will

When we believe.

In this time of fear

When my prayers so often proved in vain

Hope seemed like the summer birds

Too swiftly flown away

Yet now I'm standing here,

With hope so full I can't explain

Seeking faith and speaking words

I never thought I'd say,

Who know what miracles

I can achieve

When I believe!"

She laughed, and it was the most amazing sound to her ears. And so it was that the King returned, and she served in his house.


	68. Chapter 65

**So here we are at last, the End. It's been a rather long journey, with many ups and downs, times that I had to flounder through the sea of doubt to finally get a few words on a page. I can definitely say that I struggled through this, coming up against writers block, but all of your wonderful reviews and comments and messages helped pull me through to complete this** **massive novel. I'm really sad, almost depressed that this is the end, I loved building and developing Thennil as a character, she seemed to become this real person in my head, but now I've had to put her to rest, along with all the other characters.**

 **To tell you the truth, I'm extremely excited, relieved really, to finish this story. I'm ready to take a break and just read to my contentment, pinterest a ton, and jump back in after a few weeks off.**

 **Many thanks to Angel897 for commenting and reviewing through our entire journey! You're the best!**

 **Thanks also to Certh, who was my very first reviewer! It was nice to know that someone cared and wanted to know more about the story that I had concocted in my head.**

 **Thanks also to Arianna Le Fay, AndurilofTolkien, Ann11mary, Evenstar, mai-chan, Lady Arwen,** **Himmelstaenzerin, YveMarieFan, sweetheartcat5, lony, Tibblets, Guests and so many more for reading and reviewing. You are all so wonderful, I don't know what I would do without you! I hope you enjoy this last chapter to it's** **utmost.**

 **As Tolkien has said: "Goodbye's are not forever. Goodbye's are not the end. They simply mean that I will miss you, until we meet again."**

 **Robin**

Aragorn sat upon his steed at the entrance to the city, looking up upon its great height and mighty towers. He observed the great walls, the houses set in them, the destruction that had been wrought in battle bathed in many dark navy and silver banners rippling in the breeze. The mountains behind the city nor more were clouded in shadows, and the city seemed to shimmer in a pure white light. The tolling of many bells rang over the land, and the banners were innumerable. He could see the White Tower draped in the standards of the Stewards, bright argent like snow in the sun, bearing no charge nor device, raised over Gondor for what looked like the last time.

The Captains of the West had led their host towards the city from the plane where they had rested near the river. Many of the common folk who had fled from the area or who had even taken refuge in the city watched in fascination as the lines advanced slowly line by line, flashing and glinting in the sunrise and rippling like silver. And it was so that they came before the Gateway and halted a furlong from the walls. As yet no gates had been set up again, but a barrier was laid across the entrance to the City. It was here that many armed men stood, arms in silver and back with long swords drawn. Before the barrier stood Faramir the Steward, and Hurin Warden of the Keys, and the other captains of Gondor. Around the gate was a great crowd of fair people, dressed in raiment of many colors and glands of flowers in their hands. The Captains mounted their steeds, and began the long ride up to the Palace above. Up and up they rode, the people crowding the streets and watching their new monarch ascend the long road to the citadel. They came to the courtyard before the last level, and dismounted their horses while the people flooded along the edges up into the great green lawn above, packed tightly together as they waited for their king. Here soldiers of Gondor, Dol Amroth, Rohan, and those of the Elves who had joined them stood together with the people as one. Faramir moved out of the ranks mounting the steps to the Palace, awaiting his king.

A great hush fell upon all as out from the host of people, warrior and noble, rich and poor alike, stepped the Dunedain in silver and grey and red; and before them came walking slow Lord Aragorn. He was clad in black mail girt with silver, and he wore a long mantle of the deepest blue, nearly black around his shoulders along which's edge was embroidered silver leaves and vines. The mantle was clasped at his cloak with a great jewel of green that shone from afar; but his head was bare save for a star upon his forehead bound by a slender fillet of silver. With him were Eomer of Rohan, and the Prince Imrahil, and Gandalf robed all in white, and after his four small figures that many marveled to see.

"Nay, cousin! they are not boys,' said Ioreth to one of her kinswoman from Imloth Melui, who stood beside her as they watched the procession. 'Those are Periain, out of the far country of the Halflings, where they are princes of great fame, it is said. I should know, for I had one to tend in the Houses. They are small, but they are valiant. Why cousin, one of them went with only his esquire into the Black Country and fought with the Dark Lord all by himself, and set fire to his Tower, if you can believe it. At least that is the tale in the City. That will be one that walks with our Elfstone. They are dear friends, I hear. Now he is a marvel, the Lord Elvstone: not to soft in his speech, mind you, but he has a golden heart, as the saying is; and he has the healing hands. 'The Hands of the King are the hands of a healer,' I've always said; but I'm not sure if they can heal his own heart, he lost his love in battle, poor thing, she was a bea-"

But Ioreth was not permitted to continue the instruction of her kinswoman from the country, for a single trumpet rang, and a dead silence followed. Then the Lord Aragorn stopped a few paces from the bottom of the steps. Faramir walked down them with Hurien of the Keys, and no others, save that behind them walked four men in the high helms and armor of the Citadel, and they bore a great casket of black lebethron bound with silver.

Faramir met Aragorn in the midst of those there assembled, and he knelt, and said: "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office.' And he held out a white ro; but Aragorn took the rod and gave it back, saying: "That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"

Faramir knelt for but a second, overwhelmed with shock, before shaking himself and rising from the stones spoke in a clear voice: "Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of ARathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, weirder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor. Shall he be king and enter into his House, here in this City, and dwell there?"

And all the host and all the people cried _yea_ with one voice.

Lothiriel stood next to her brothers, dressed in pure white, her dark hair braided up and against her head elegantly, a tiara upon her brow. A smile graced her pale, elf-like features as she gazed over the scene. "This is just as I imagined it."

Her brothers nodded, resting hands on her slender shoulders. "You did well, Lotty."

She smiled, and made to sign again, but it was then that their cousin spoke again.

"Men of Gondor, the lore masters tell that it was the custom of old that the king should receive the crown from his father ere he died; or if that might not be, that he should go alone and take it from the hands of his father in the tomb where he was laid. But since things must now be done otherwise, using the authority of the Steward, I have today brought hither from Rath Dinen the crown of Sanur the last king, whose days passed in the time of our longfathers of old."

Then the guards stepped forward to the edge of the highest step at the top of the stairs, which Faramir mounted once again and opened the casket, holding up an ancient crown. It a circlet of thick metal, with two wings that rose tall on two sides similar to those of the Citadel guards, of the most brilliant silver with bright gold inlays. The wings were wrought of pearl and silver in the likeness of the wings of a sea-bird, for it was the emblem of the kings who came over the Sea; and seven smaller gems of adamant were set in the circlet, and upon its summit was set a single jewel the light of which was like a stars flame.

Then Aragorn took the crown and held it up for all to see, but to the surprise and wonder of all, did not put it upon his head, but gave it back to Faramir, and said: 'By the labour and velour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer hand the crown to Gimli son of Gloin who shall bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."

Then, from among the people, Frodo came forward and took the crown from Faramir, balancing it on the cushion upon which it sat, and handed it to Gimli, who walked up the steps and brought it to Gandalf. Gandalf lifted the crown from the cushion, the metal glittering brilliantly in the sunshine. Aragorn knelt before the wizard, trying to still his shaking hands as he looked up at the wizard from under his eyelashes then back at the ground near his feet. The Wizard smiled down at him, settling it upon his head.

"Now come the days of the King,' said Gandalf, slowly bringing his hands away from the crown. Aragorn looked up once again, and smiled. The wizard kept his own in place, but could see that his friends smile was one of pain, more of a grimace. He whispered softly: 'May they be blessed."

When Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Take as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the first blossom of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him, and yet sorrow seemed to loom around the edges of his presence. Then Faramir cried:

"Behold the King!"

And in that moment great cheering rose, hands clapped, all the trumpets were blown, and the King Elessar went forth and came to edge of the steps. Music was stuck, and the melodious sounds of the harp and of the oil and of the flute and the singing of clear voices grew. Flowers were flung into his path as he descended a few steps before stopping. A new banner was unfurled on the topmost tower, one that had been labored over for many a year. A Tree and the Stars in the brightest silver upon a dark blue background, stitched by a loving hand. And so it was that the reign of King Elessar began, of which many songs have told.

It was then that he deep voice echoed over the crowd as he looked over his new subjects. "This day does not belong to one man but to all. Let us together rebuild this world that we may share in the days of peace."

The cheers grew to a deafening volume.

Slowly, he began to sing, and the noise of the crowd fell to barely a whisper. "Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta."

When he had finished his song, he moved through the ranks of people, passing Prince Imrahil, who bowed low before him with his sons and daughter. Aragorn nodded to them, smiling as he passed by. Behind him walked Gimli and Gandalf, Frodo having disappeared back into the ranks of people to join his companions. His smile grew wider as he passed Eowyn and Faramir a little farther down, both standing closer together than was considered proper. Homer stepped forward from among his warriors, bowing in respect for his sword-brother, his long blonde mane being pushed and pulled by the light breeze that rolled over the city.

Light trumpets were sounded, and the new King was met by a procession of elves. All were dressed in shining and shimmering silvers and whites, at their forefront stood Legolas, who approached the king. He bowed his head, as the king drew near.

"Hannon le,' whispered the King to his longtime friend.

"It was nothing, mellonin,' said the elf.

"But it was,' said the King. 'And I shall never forget it."

The elf nodded, and Aragorn moved on through the ranks of people before coming to stand before the hobbits. He looked over the four with a small smile. These four had come so far, and left so much behind, to vanquish such a great evil. He knew that they would never be the same, and hoped that somehow, they would not loose the innocence that they had left their home with. The four hobbits were dressed in their old clothes, clean and mended, began to bow before him. He quickly raised his hand, filled with shock.

"My friends...you bow to no one." And so it was that the King dropped on one knee, kneeling before the hobbits, head bowed. All followed his example willingly, and those that were close enough to see caught sight of tears slipping down the faces of the four. Together they clutch their friends hands or shoulders as the whole city paid them homage, their courage and steadfastness to become that of songs and legends.

And so it was that they spent that night in joyful song and good food with friends close and far alike.

Many days passed then in gladness. And the fellowship and those that they befriended dwelled together as one, for Aragorn was loth for the fellowship to be dissolved. 'At last all such things must end,' he said. 'but I would have you all wait a little while longer: for the end of the deeds that you have shared has not yet come. A day draws near that I have looked forward to for as long as I have wished to be king, and when it comes I would have my friends beside me." But of that day he would say no more.

In those days the Companions of the Ring dwelt together in the fair house with Gandalf, Eomer and Imrahil among them, and they went to and fro as they wished. And Pippin, ever the curious one asked Gandalf one day as they sat smoking their pipes together: 'Do you know what this day is that Aragorn speaks of? For we are happy here, and I don't wish to go; but the days are running away, and I know that Frodo longs to see Bilbo again after such a long time. I'm even beginning to long for home, and I'm a Took."

Gandalf shook his head, he looked over the other hobbits who sat a little ways away. Frodo, Sam, and Merry all smoking on their own pipes, looking out over the city. "As for Bilbo,' he said, 'he is waiting for the same day, and he knows what keeps his nephew. And as for the passing of the days, it is now only May and high summer is not yet in; and though all things may seem changed, as if an age of the world had gone by, yet to the trees and the grass it is less than a year since you set out."

"Pippin,' said Frodo, who had heard them talking, 'didn't you say that Gandalf was less close than of old? He was weary of his labors then, I think. Now he is recovering."

And Gandalf said: 'Many folk like to know beforehand what is to be set on the table; but those who have labored to prepare the feast like to keep their secret; for wonder makes the words of praise louder. And Aragorn himself waits for a sign."

It was after a few more days such as these that Eomer and Eowyn left to their own land, promising to return as soon as possible to bring their uncle home to be buried properly. Eowyn and Faramir spent many long moments together before the long train of men left the City, their love shining in their eyes for all to see. Eomer was less than thrilled to see that his sister had fallen for the book-loving, dark-haired, poetic-spewing Steward of Gondor. He would have much preferred a great warrior with the strength to match over this man, but the love he saw growing between them could not be denied, and he would see his sister happy, even if it was with what he thought of as a 'lesser man.'

Then came a day when Gandalf could not be found, and the Companions wondered what was going forward. But Gandalf took Aragorn out from the City by night, and he brought him to the southern feet of Mount Mindolluin; and there they found a path made in ages past that few now dared tread. For it led up on to the mountain to a high hallow where only the kings had been won't to go. And they went up by steep ways, until they came to a high field below the snows that clad the lofty peaks, and it looked down over the precipice that stood behind the City. And standing there they surveyed the lands, for the morning was come; and they saw the towers of the City far below them like white pencils touched by the sunlight, and all the Vale of Anduin was like garden, and the Mountains of Shadow were veiled in a golden mist. Upon the one side their sight reached to the grey Emyn Muil, and the glint of Rauros was like a star twinkling far off; and upon the other side they saw the River like a ribbon laid down to Pelargir, and beyond that was light on the hem of the sky that spoke of the Sea.

And as Gandalf stood next to him looking out over the land, he said: 'This is your realm, and the heart of the greater realm that shall be. The Third Age of the World is ended, and the new age is begun; and it is your task to order its beginning and to preserve what may be preserved. For though much has been saved, still some now must pass away; and the power of the three rings also is ending. Though they be passed on to new guardians, their power is not as great as it once was. And all the lands that you see, and those that lie round about them, shall be dwellings of all peoples, Men and Dwarves, and Elves alike. This shall be the Age of Friendship and Unity, though the Elder Kindred will slowly depart."

"I know it well, dear friend,' said Aragorn wearily, thinking of his beloved. 'But I would still have your counsel."

"Not for long now,' said Gandalf. 'The Third Age was my age. I was the Enemy of Sauron; and my work is nearly finished. I shall go soon. The burden must lie now upon you and your kindred and those that stay."

Aragorn shook his head, 'But I am but one man, and a mortal one at that, and though being what I am and of the race of the West unmingled, I shall have life far longer than other men, but I shall die, even if it is yet but a little while; and when those who are now in the wombs of women are born and have grown old, I too shall grow old. And who then shall govern Gondor and those who look to this city as to their queen, since my desire shall not be granted in this life or the next? The Tree in the Court of the Fountain is still withered and barren. When shall I see a sign that it will ever be otherwise?"

"Turn your face from the green world, and look where all seems barren and cold!' said Gandalf.

Then Aragorn turned, and there was a stony slope behind him running down from the skirts of the snow; and as he looked he was aware that alone there in the waste a growing thing stood. And he climbed to it, handing on to the cliff face with his fingertips, and saw that out of the very edge of the snow there sprang a sapling tree no more than three foot high. Already it had put forth young leaves long and shapely, dark above and silver beneath, and upon its slender crown it bore one small cluster of flowers whose white petals shone like the sunlit snow.

Then Aragorn cried: 'Ye! untivienyes! I have found it! Lo! here is a scion of the Eldest of Trees! But how comes it here? For it is not itself yet seven years old."

And Gandalf climbing down to him, old man that he was, but still spright, looked at it, and said: 'Verily this is a sapling of the line of Nimloth the fair; and that was a seedling of Galathilion, and that a fruit of Telperion of many names, Eldest of Trees. Who shall say how it comes here in the appointed hour? But this is an ancient hallow, and ere the kings failed or the Tree withered in the court, a fruit but have been set here. For it is said that, though the fruit if the Tree comes seldom to ripeness, yet the life within may then lie sleeping through many long years, and none can foretell the time in which it will awake. Remember this/ For if ever a fruit ripens, it should be planted, lest the line die out of the world. Here it has lain hidden on th mountain, even as the race of Elendil lay hidden in the wastes of the North. Yet the line of Nimloth is older far than your line, King Elessar."

Then Aragorn laid his hand gently to the sapling, and lo! it seemed to only be lightly rooted in the earth, and it was removed without damage to it's delicate roots; and Aragorn bore it back to the Citadel. Then the withered tree was uprooted, but with reverence; and they did not burn it, but laid it to rest in the silence of Rath Dinen. But a message from the lady of the Golden Wood was sent, and she counseled Aragorn to take from the tree a large branch, and bear it back to his House to rest in a place where all would see, to one day be used to make some great thing, of which she was very vague about. And Aragorn planted the new tree in the court by the fountain, and swiftly and gladly it began to grow; and when the month of June entered in it was laden with blossom.

"Hope is still alive, and lines shall be restored,' Gandalf muttered mysteriously from the shadows as he and a few of the company watched Aragorn water the plant each day, tending to it like a seasoned gardener. And it was so that Gandalf set his own watchmen upon the walls, and waited.

It was the day before Midsummer when messengers came from Amon Din to the City, and they said that there was a riding of fair folk out of the North, and they drew near now to the walls of the Pelennor. And the King said: 'At last they have come. Let rooms be made ready!"

Upon the very Eve of Midsummer, when the sky was blue as sapphire and white stars opened in the East, but the West was still golden, and the air was cool and fragrant, the riders came down the North-way to the gates of Minas Tirith. First rode Elrohir and Elladan with a banner of silver, and then came Glorfindel and Erestor and all those who dwelled in the House of Elrond in Rivendell, and after them came the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn, Lord of Lothlorien, riding upon white steeds and with them many fair folk of their land, grey-cloaked with white gems in their hair; and last came Master Elrond, mighty among Elves and Men, bearing the scepter of Annuminas, and beside him upon a grey palfrey rode Arwen his daughter, Evenstar of her people.

And Frodo when he saw her come glimmering in the evening, with stars on her brow and a sweet fragrance about her, was moved with great wonder, and sadness as he remembered her sister, and he said to Gandalf: 'If only her sister was with her, then I think Aragorn's melancholy could be cured. But perhaps his heart can be softened by her, and healed in time."

Gandalf shook his head sadly, searching the party. 'I fear that not even all of Lady Arwen's charm and gentleness will be able to heal our dear friend. Though she is beautiful, he never loved her. No. They come to rejoice with him for coming into his birthright, and to spend time with him and mourn a little."

Frodo looked up at his friend, confused. 'But they all wear smiles, and seem so joyous for having lost one of their own."

Gandalf did not answer as his attention wandered elsewhere.

Aragorn welcomed his guests with great joy, and they alighted; and Elrond surrendered the scepter. His smile was large, and he hugged his foster son close. Aragorn's foster siblings crowded round him, drawing him into tight hugs as he got passed around. He bowed before the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, and asked after them and their people. News was quickly passed about, and the people of Minas Tirith peered out from between their shutters as the king greeted his family. They were in awe of the Elves beauty, even if they had been surrounded by it for a long time while the elvish warriors had protected their city.

"I am glad to have you here in my City, to dwell in my house,' he said, but a puzzled look came upon his face as he looked over those they had brought with them, which were many, 'but why did you come now, so long after my coronation. What news has brought you thus?"

Galadriel smiled her all-knowing smile, 'I think it would be evident, but perhaps it is not."

This confused him even more, and he turned to look around at his siblings, then to his foster father. "Elrond?"

The elf-lord did not speak, but nodded to something behind his son. Aragorn's brow wrinkled in confusion yet again, and he turned.

And froze.

Like a man seeing a vision, be stood there, still as a statue. His eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the picture the seemed to float before him. The elves parted before a stunning beauty, her hair no longer shorn, but flowing freely down her back in long curls, her body whole in a way that didn't seem possible. It took him a moment to comprehend that this was no dream, no trance that he had found himself in, but real, and yet his mind kept telling him that she was dead, that she had died in his arms and her spirit and body taken away to Mandos. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she stepped out from among the ranks of dark-haired elves, her own fiery head a beacon of light amidst all the dark. She smiles small, looking up into his eyes as his disbelief is written all over his face. He took a step towards her, then another, then another, until they were standing toe to toe.

 **It** had taken all of her patience and will to restrain herself from bolting from the havens to a horse that could take her to Minas Tirith, and to Aragorn, but under her father, and grandparents instruction, she waited. She had never wanted something so much as this, to be reunited with her loved one. She had never thought that she would be given this chance, many were not so lucky as she, to be granted a second life. She had spent only a few hours going through her things and sorting out what she would or would not take with her; she did not own much in the way of possessions because of her proneness to wander and explore the world around her. And it was so that she only had two small trunks to bring with her when she finished. Arwen had laughed at her and sent word to their grandmother to have her ladies star making dresses and other things for her sisters trusell, which Thennil had never thought to sew or make to bring to her new home. She had never thought that she would marry, so why bother? Arwen had chuckled, and gone about organizing everything from tablecloths to sheets to nightgowns to curtains.

But now, seeing him, it was all forgotten. It felt like it had been an Age since she had beheld his face, and it brought tears to her eyes as she looked upon him, a king in his own right. She could see the weariness in his shoulders, and the new wisdom in his eyes, but he looked younger than she had ever seen him since he had started this journey, and she was overjoyed. Life had not been kind to him, and he had had to work harder than most, bearing most of his burdens alone. But now she was here, and she would do what she could to help relieve him of some of those burdens if she could.

"How?' he asked, his strong voice quivering with pent up emotions.

She raised her elegant eyebrow, a small smirk appearing on her face.

"You died in my arms, your body was whisked away. How are you here?" His shaky hand cupped her chin.

"Not everyone is allowed a second chance at life,' her eyes travelled over to Glorfindel then back to his own teary eyes. 'And in my grief my song stirred the heart of Mandos, and in his infinate mercy, he and the other Valar sent me back."

Then he wept, and her own tears slipped down her cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed each one as they fell, chuckling softly before drawing her into a passionate kiss, her hands slipping into his hair, and his other hand finding a grip on her waist as they kissed. Laughter and shouts of joy burst out from all those around them, and the elves, known for their silent demeanor, grew loud with their joy. Finally drawing back for a breath of air, the two looked each other over, touching the others face as the noise continued on around them, oblivious to all.

"My Light,' he whispered, kissing her again. 'My Luthien."

She smiled, running her fingers through his beard. "Aragorn, My King."

There was no great joy that either of them had ever experienced than this, to be reunited as one, to be given the chance to live the life they had always wanted, but always knew was never likely to happen. And so it was that Elrond laid the hand of his daughter in the hand of the king, and together they went up into the High City, and all the stars flowered in the sky, as if Varda herself had ordered them to celebrate the joyous occasion. And Aragorn the King Elessar wedded Thennil Oriel, beloved of the Valar, in the City of the Kings in the manners of it's people upon the day of Midsummer, and the tale of their long journey and labors was come to fulfillment.

 **But wait, the story can't be over yet! What happened afterwards? There's so much to explain, so many more people to learn about! How could you do this to us? Don't leave us hanging!**

 **Stay tuned, there's a one-shot to be had next week.**


	69. One-Shot

**So, I've posted the One-Shot on my page, please go and read it. There might also be a snippet from an idea for the next book I'm hoping to get up soon, not telling who it might be about! I'm super pumped to hear what you guys all think!**

 **Robin**


	70. AN 3

So darlings, I'm back! Again. Lol.

I know that I promised you that I'd get something out soonish in my last post to this story, but medical stuff happened. I've been to see so many doctors had blood tests done, MRI's and the like and I just didn't have the time, nor the interest in working on this next book. I was utterly spent. The muse had run to hide far far away in the depths of my mind, practically going dormant for the amount of time that I neglected her, poor thing. But I started to force myself to write something, anything, and my next book is what came of it. It does revolve around my previous posts, so I hope you like it!

Please check out and review **Sign of the Swan, Book II** in my profile!

Your's,

Robin


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